City of Smoke and Dust
by The Lovelorn Lovelace
Summary: Two years into their marriage, Clary and Jace find out that Clary is pregnant. But when demon attacks threaten the Institute and a Prince of Hell thirsts for Jace's blood, they must fight to keep their family together. *COMPLETE*
1. Part I, Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is about four years in the making. As such, it will not be entirely canon compliant. I started writing this a good while before Lady Midnight came out, but the Dark Artifices changed a lot about the Shadowhunters world. By the time Queen of Air and Darkness came out, I'd written half of this story already. I chose not to include some details from the newest books because it was too difficult to work them into my main story, though I did accommodate some of the smaller changes.**

**This fic is a labor of love. In a word document, it stands at 323 pages, or 115,600 words. It's been a long, hard road, but I hope you enjoy it.**

**And with all that said, here is the first chapter of CITY OF SMOKE AND DUST!**

* * *

**CITY OF SMOKE AND DUST**

**PART ONE: FIRE**

**Chapter One**

Sunlight streamed through the Institute's enormous windows as Jace strode down the hallway. It was a hot August morning, and for once he was glad for the Institute's drafty halls. The light breeze flowing through the open windows offered some relief from the scorching heat, but the stone of the Institute's halls offered much more.

Jace could hear the phone ringing distantly, and he picked up his pace. He sped into the library just in time to snatch up the phone. "New York Institute," he said, his voice clipped and polite.

He had just picked up a pen and a pad of paper when Simon walked in. "Okay," he said, scribbling furiously. "Got it. We'll be there in ten minutes." He hung up the phone and glanced up at Simon.

"Demon attack?" Simon guessed, perching on the arm of a chair.

Jace nodded. "Staten Island. Arden Woods. Minor demons, though," he added hastily. "You don't have to come. _Really_," he said emphatically.

"Aw, come on, Jace," said Simon, grinning at him. "Don't you miss fighting with me? Even a little?" he wheedled.

"No," said Jace flatly. "Not in the least."

"Fine," said Simon, swinging himself off the armchair. "I guess I'll just ask Clary—"

"_I'll_ ask Clary," said Jace, heading to the door. "She's _my_ wife."

"She's _my_ _parabatai,_" Simon countered, mimicking Jace's tone as he followed him out of the library. "And besides, I'm _bored_. At least Izzy's probably having fun, off murdering demons in Morocco—"

"I thought she was in Italy now," said Jace, striding down the corridor with Simon on his heels.

"Oh, yeah," said Simon, scratching his head. "It's hard to keep track. I kind of wish I'd gone with her, you know? I mean, here we are, married three years, and my wife is off slaying demons without me. Not to mention, do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had sex?"

"Okay," said Jace, stopping abruptly, "number one, I do _not _want to hear about you having sex with my sister. Second, since when do we talk about our sex lives with each other?"

"Since I stopped having one," Simon grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Jace shook his head, disbelieving, as he turned a corner—and smacked straight into Clary.

She shrieked, and her armful of books went tumbling to the floor. "Jace!" she snapped, snatching up the books. "Watch where you're going!"

"Couldn't help it," said Jace, smiling cheekily. "Your beauty is blinding."

Simon let out a long groan behind them, and although Clary normally would have smiled exasperatedly, today she didn't. Jace's grin faded. "Are you okay?" he said, watching her closely.

She avoided his gaze. "I'm fine," she said shortly, picking up the last of her books.

"What's with the mobile library?" said Jace, eyeing the enormous stack.

"I've been catching up on my demonology," said Clary, hoisting the books higher into her arms. "It's not important. Well, I'm sure you've got something to do, so I'll just—"

"Clary," Jace said, grabbing her arm as she made to move past him. "What's going on?"

She gave him a very false smile. "Nothing!" she said, a bit too cheerfully.

Jace surveyed her for a moment, but she stared back resolutely, and he finally let it drop. "There are some minor demons in Staten Island," he said. "Why don't I take those back to the library and you and Simon can go get gear and weapons?"

She hesitated—almost imperceptibly, but he knew her well enough to notice. "Okay," she said, tipping the books into his arms. Simon slapped Jace on the back hard enough to make the stack of books sway ominously and went over to Clary, who gave him a small smile. Jace watched Clary closely as she and Simon turned and went back down the hallway. He had the strangest feeling that something was not quite right.

* * *

Clary was quiet beside Simon, watching the floor as they walked. He nudged her gently. "You okay?" he said.

She glanced up at him. "Yeah. Just—um—tired, I guess."

He frowned at her. "You're not getting sick, are you? You look kind of pale. Maybe we should get a Silent Brother—"

"No!" said Clary hastily, and Simon raised his eyebrows at her sudden vehemence. "No, I'm fine," she said with a forced smile. "I mean, a little demon hunting should wake me right up. I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."

"Say it one more time and I'll believe you."

She met his eyes. "I'm _fine_."

He held her gaze for a measured moment before dropping it. "If you say so," he muttered as they reached the weapons room. He pushed the door open and let her in ahead of him. They changed into their gear and began to gather seraph blades and their own weapons. Clary strapped a sword to her belt and selected a pair of swords for Jace, stacking them on top of his gear.

Finally, Simon broke the silence. "Is something bothering you?" he asked, watching her across the room. She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Clary." She met his eyes, and in hers he saw thinly disguised worry. "I can feel it, you know," he said softly. He put a hand to his left forearm, where his _parabatai_ rune was inked. "I feel it when you're worrying. You can talk to me. Or if not me, at least Jace."

She sighed. "If there's one person I can't talk to about this, it's Jace," she murmured.

"Clary, what's going on?" Simon asked gently.

She shook her head. "Nothing you need to worry about. I'll be fine." She yanked a weapons belt off the wall and put it on top of the pile of Jace's things, shouldering the door open and slipping out. Simon stared after her, let out a sigh, and then followed her into the hallway, slinging a bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder.

He caught up with her in the entrance hall, just as she met up with Jace. "Get dressed," she said, dumping his gear into his arms.

Jace grinned at her. "That sounds so weird coming out of your mouth. Usually, you're telling me to get _undressed_—"

She shoved him, laughing, and for a moment she looked almost normal. But then Jace turned away to climb into his gear and Clary's smile faded and she suddenly looked very old for her age. Simon reached over and squeezed her shoulder wordlessly, and she smiled faintly at him.

"I called Magnus," said Jace as he zipped up his jacket and jammed three seraph blades into his belt. "He's coming over to make a Portal."

"I can make a Portal," Clary pointed out.

"Well, if your little butt almost dies," said a voice from behind them, "you'll be happy to have someone on the other side."

They turned to see Magnus leaning idly against the doorframe. His hair was spiked up, as usual, and dusted with purple glitter. Simon grinned and waved at him. "Hey, Magnus," he said. "How are the kids?"

"Ah..." said Magnus, smiling sheepishly. "They _might_ be covered in glitter."

Jace shook his head. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," said Magnus. "It involved a rather unfortunate incident with my hair supplies and Max's developing powers. Anyway, Alec's trying to clean them up, but he told me to tell all of you to be careful and don't do anything stupid." He looked rather pointedly at Jace, who grinned back at him.

"Tell Alec to stop worrying so much," he said breezily, walking past Magnus. The others followed him outside the Institute and into the garden. As Magnus prepared to open the Portal, Simon took one last glance at Clary. She looked very pale, and he could feel the tightness of her worry under his own ribs.

"Everything's going to be fine," he said in a low voice. She gave a half-hearted smile as the Portal exploded into being before them, a whirling vortex of sound and color. Magnus put a hand to it to keep it open.

"Geronimo!" Jace whooped, jumping into the Portal. Clary rolled her eyes and followed him, shaking her head exasperatedly. Grinning slightly, Simon stepped in and was whisked away into the maelstrom.

The Portal deposited them in the middle of Arden Woods. Almost immediately, there was a shriek above them and a bird-like demon fell out of the sky. A series of loud thumps in the distance told Simon there was more than one.

"Split up!" said Jace, advancing on the demon closest to them. Here the trees were so densely packed that hardly any sunlight could filter through. What few rays struggled down through the canopy, the demon was deftly avoiding. "You two start on the other ones. I'll get this one and meet up with you."

Simon and Clary took off into the woods, dodging protruding branches and roots. Clary suddenly skidded to a stop in front of Simon and he narrowly avoided running into her. She yanked out her sword as he registered the demon in front of them. It was an ugly thing, reminding Simon of a pterodactyl. The demon had no eyes, just indents in its bony, triangular head. It screeched as it extended its leathery, sharp-tipped wings, but before it could take off into the sky, Clary exploded into action, severing one wing from its body.

The demon let out a shriek of pain, opening its mouth to reveal several rows of razor-sharp teeth, and in an instant Simon whipped his sword at it and beheaded it with a disgusting squelching noise. It writhed for a moment, ichor spraying, and then folded in on itself, vanishing.

"Ha!" said Simon, his veins pumping with adrenaline. "Good teamwork, don't you think, Clary?" He glanced to the side, but she was no longer there. "Clary?"

There was the sound of coughing behind him, and he turned; Clary retched behind a tree, her body convulsing as she vomited. "Whoa," said Simon, walking over to her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said wearily as she straightened up, wiping her hand across the back of her mouth.

He grinned at her sideways. "I've never known you to have a weak stomach, Fray," he said, elbowing her gently in the ribs.

"I said I'm fine, Simon," Clary snapped, and Simon, taken aback, subsided. Before he could say anything, a screech sounded in the distance just as another demon dropped down in front of them.

"You take this one," said Clary. "I'll deal with the other one." She took off before he could protest. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention to the demon in front of him just as it launched itself at him. He dodged it, but its claws managed to graze his shoulder and pain rippled down his arm. Gritting his teeth, Simon fitted an arrow into his bow and released it. The demon howled in pain as the arrow hit home in its side, but it continued to stagger towards him. Simon shot it again, this time where its eye should have been. The arrow pierced the demon's brain and it collapsed with an eerie silence.

Simon wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His shoulder throbbed; he pulled a stele out of his belt and finished an _iratze_ on his arm with a quick slash. The rune sank into his skin, sending ripples of relief through his shoulder.

Shoving the stele back in his belt, Simon followed the sounds of battle back toward the Portal. He skidded into a clearing just in time to see a demon swipe at Jace. He leapt backward, flipping effortlessly and landing back on his feet six feet away. He prepared to throw a dagger, but before he could, Simon shot the demon through the eye socket and it crashed to the ground.

"I had that one," said Jace, irritated, as he stuck the dagger back into his belt.

"Or you could say thank you," Simon muttered. There was a screech behind him and he whirled around to see another demon drop out of the sky. It bared its teeth and advanced on them.

"Feel like old times yet?" said Simon, and, grinning, he and Jace charged at the demon.

* * *

Clary jogged through the woods. She felt strangely out of her body; half her mind was focused on following the sounds of the rampaging demon, and the other half was back at the clearing with Jace, thinking about how on earth she was going to...

There was a crash ahead of her and she picked up her speed, leaping over a fallen tree that looked as if it had been ripped out of the ground. She landed in the middle of a small clearing and the demon swung around toward her.

It let out a loud screech and flew at her. She swung out at it, slicing a deep cut across its chest. The demon shrieked, extending its long, leathery wings. Clary slashed out at it again, but it was faster. Its claws came up, raking across her chest.

Pain exploded through her, and she fought down a bout of nausea as she staggered backward. Her fingers scrabbled at her belt and she managed to pull out a seraph blade. "_S-Sanvi_," she gasped out, and the blade flared to life. As the demon closed the distance between them, Clary flung the blade.

It hit home in the demon's chest, and as it flailed, it swung a wing at her. The sharp tip sank into Clary's stomach—there was a horrible, sickening pain—

And then everything went black.

* * *

The shining seraph blade cut an arc through the air as Simon drove it into the demon's chest. It shrieked and collapsed backward, ichor exploding upward in a fountain.

Simon breathed heavily, his blood pounding in his ears. He felt incredibly energized; he couldn't remember the last time he'd fought a horde of demons. Recruiting potential Shadowhunters was an important job, but one that didn't involve much demon-hunting. Simon turned to grin at Jace—and pain exploded through him, sudden and jarring enough to make him double over and collapse to his hands and knees, gasping. The rune on his forearm seared, white-hot.

"Simon!" Jace shouted. He grabbed Simon's arm and yanked him back onto his feet. "Simon, what is it?"

"Clary," he choked out.

Jace paled. "Go. I'll handle the demons, just go!"

Simon took off, crashing through the trees. He could feel a tightness in his chest, like a cord pulled taut, drawing him to Clary. His rune still burned and throbbed painfully.

The clearing appeared before him and he skidded to a halt, scanning the surroundings. For a moment, he couldn't find her—and then he saw her, tiny and crumpled on the ground.

He ran to her, dropping to his knees beside her and turning her onto her back. Her gear was shredded across her chest, and the ground beneath her was damp with her blood. She was breathing very shallowly.

"By the Angel," Simon breathed, his voice cracking. He shook her gently. "Clary? Clary, please wake up..."

Her eyelids fluttered open and she drew in a shaking breath. "Simon..."

"Shh," he said, pulling out a dagger. "Shh, don't worry, you're going to be fine." He unzipped her gear jacket and peeled it away from her skin. The t-shirt underneath was saturated with blood, and he carefully sliced it away until he could see her wounds. He sucked in a breath; there were deep claw marks across her chest, and just below her ribcage was an enormous stab wound.

"By the Angel, Clary," he said again, shakily.

"I'm—I'm okay," she whispered, coughing slightly. Simon pulled out his stele and inked two _iratzes_ into her skin, one on her collarbone and the other on her stomach. They sank in, fading to white; the skin began to knit itself back together.

Clary let out a slow breath; Simon could sense her pain easing slightly. "There," he said softly. "Now let's get you back to the Portal, okay?"

She nodded, and he slid an arm under her shoulders, pulling her gently to her feet. She wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning heavily on him. She managed to take two shaky steps—and then she crumpled to her knees, gasping as she put a hand to her stomach. Simon dropped down beside her and was horrified to see that her wound had reopened, and that blood was gushing through her fingers.

"No—_no_—" He drew another _iratze_ on her torso as she collapsed onto her back. It sank in, but had no effect on the wound. "Clary—"

"Simon," she whispered, her eyes shining. "I..."

"Shh, don't worry, it's going to be okay," Simon said, trying to convince himself as much as her. "Look, just stay here, I'm going to get Jace—"

"Simon," she gasped. Her frantic fingers caught on his sleeve as he made to leave. "Don't let me die, I'm pregnant—I'm pregnant..."

It felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He stared at her in shock. "What—Clary—"

She took a shuddering breath—then her eyes rolled back in her head, eyelids fluttering closed. Her limp fingers slipped, her arm thudding heavily to the ground.

"Clary—Clary!" She lay motionless. Simon glanced back towards where Jace was fighting the demon and made up his mind, scooping Clary into his arms and cradling her against his chest. He took off, back towards the Portal.

"Simon!" Jace shouted as he approached. He scissored the head off the demon, and it fell with a sickening squelch, folding in on itself as it disappeared. Jace jogged towards Simon, his face white. "Is she—"

"She's hurt," said Simon, shifting Clary higher in his arms. "She needs the Silent Brothers. Jace," he added in an undertone, "did you know?"

"Know what?" said Jace distractedly, watching Clary's ashy face.

"That she's—"

A roar cut him off as another demon fell out of the sky. "Simon, get her out of here!" Jace shouted, drawing his swords.

"But—"

"GO!"

Simon dodged the demon's wing and ran towards the glowing Portal. He took a deep breath, tightened his hold on Clary's limp body, and stepped through.

They tumbled out into the bright daylight outside of the Institute, and Simon struggled to keep his hold on Clary as he staggered away from the Portal. He heard footsteps behind him as he laid Clary down in the grass, and turned to see Magnus towering over him, his eyes wide.

"Move," he said, dropping down by Clary and lifting a hand. It began to glow blue, but Simon grabbed his wrist before he could begin to heal Clary.

"Don't," he said. "We have to get a Silent Brother."

"Simon," said Magnus, sounding impatient, "she's bleeding out. They won't get here in time. You have to let me heal her."

"She's pregnant," Simon blurted out.

Magnus stared.

"What the _f_—" he began, but Simon cut him off.

"There isn't time," he said desperately. "Please, Magnus, please just get a Silent Brother."

"Where are you going?" Magnus called after him as he hurried back to the Portal.

"Jace is still fighting off the demons," Simon said, the wind off the Portal blowing his hair into his eyes. He could just make out Magnus's worried face. "I'll be back. Please—just help her." And before Magnus could say anything else, Simon stepped into the Portal.

* * *

"Where is she?" Jace demanded of Magnus the moment the Portal deposited him outside the Institute.

"The infirmary," Magnus said as Simon jumped out behind Jace and the Portal closed. "But, Jace—"

He wasn't listening; he had already moved past Magnus, hurrying towards the Institute doors. Simon hurried behind him, his gear still drenched with Clary's blood. Jace felt as if his heart was in his throat, choking him as it beat frantically. Simon was silent beside him, his face tight with worry. _He'd know if she died,_ Jace thought, and then immediately berated himself for even entertaining the idea. _She'll be fine. She has to be._

He rounded the corner and stopped in front of the infirmary doors, but just as he was about to push them open, Simon grabbed his arm.

"Jace, wait," he said sharply. "Before you go in, there's something you should know—"

He didn't have a chance to finish. The doors swung open and the tall form of a Silent Brother emerged from the infirmary. He pulled his hood down, revealing a familiar stitched mouth and eyes.

"Brother Enoch," said Jace, struggling to keep his voice steady. "How is she?"

_Clary will be fine,_ said Brother Enoch, and Jace let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Relief flooded through him. _She was incredibly fortunate. Had the injury occurred even an inch or two lower, the child likely would not have survived._

Jace stared at Brother Enoch in confusion, certain he had misheard. "The what?"

The Silent Brother surveyed him. _The child,_ he said slowly. _Were you unaware that your wife is pregnant?_

The relief seemed to sap out of Jace like a balloon inside him had been punctured. He could only stare blankly. It was as if he were underwater, everything moving very slowly around him. Distantly, he heard Simon's voice. "Jace, I was going to tell you..."

"You knew?" he heard himself say from very far away.

"No!" said Simon hastily. "I just found out, too. She told me—after she got hurt—"

"And you didn't say anything until now?" Jace snapped. He suddenly felt uncontrollably angry—at whom, he wasn't quite sure.

"I _tried_," said Simon, sounding frustrated. "Look, does it matter now? The point is that she's fine. Let's just go in and see her, okay?"

Jace backed away. "I have to get out of here," he said in a shaking voice.

"What? Jace—"

He turned on his heel and walked away from Simon and Brother Enoch. His thoughts were jumbled, flying too fast for him to really comprehend them.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he turned a corner and walked straight into Alec and Isabelle. He stumbled backward as Izzy shrieked in surprise. It took his befuddled brain a moment to realize something odd about the situation.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Italy?" was the first thing he blurted out.

"Um...hi to you too?" said Isabelle, grinning at him. "I came back early. I mean, I missed you both and all that, but also, it's been a _really_ long time since I had sex and I needed to see Simon."

"Gross," said Jace automatically. Isabelle smiled, but it was fleeting.

"Magnus told us both that Clary was hurt," she said. Her eyes searched Jace's worriedly. "How is she?"

"She's..." He suddenly felt overwhelmingly exhausted, and he slid against the wall, his knees giving out.

"Oh, my God," said Izzy, covering her mouth. "Jace...she isn't..."

"No," he said hastily. "She's okay. It's just..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "She's pregnant," he said finally.

"Oh!" said Isabelle, the worry leaving her face. "Well, why didn't you start with that, you idiot?" she said, swatting him on the top of his head.

"Congratulations," said Alec, smiling.

Jace shook his head. "I can't...I can't do this," he whispered, staring down at the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest. "I mean, the only dad I ever knew was a psychopath. How am I supposed to be someone's father when I had the worst role model ever?" His voice cracked, and he dropped his head down onto his knees.

"Look," said Alec, sitting down beside him. Izzy sat on Jace's other side and put an arm around him. "Our dad wasn't exactly the best role model either. Do you think I'm a bad father?"

"Of course not," said Jace, "but it's—"

"Different?" Alec finished, smiling wryly. "Not really. The thing about being a dad is that you kind of pick it up along the way. No one can teach you how to parent your own child. And for the record," he added, squeezing Jace's hand, "you're nothing like your father. _Either_ of them."

"What does Clary think?" asked Izzy softly.

Jace glanced over at her. "Um..." he said sheepishly.

"Oh my God," said Izzy exasperatedly. "You mean you've been wallowing out here and you haven't even been in to see her yet? Talk about _inconsiderate_."

"I wasn't—"

"Nope," said Isabelle, cutting him off. "No more wallowing. Now go back to the infirmary and _talk to your wife_." She hauled him up by the arm and yanked him back down the hallway. He protested half-heartedly until they reached the infirmary.

"Izzy!" said Simon, leaping up to greet her. "I thought you weren't coming back until next week!"

"Hi babe, just give me a second," said Isabelle as she continued to pull on Jace's arm. "_Go_," she said, opening the door, shoving Jace in, and slamming it behind him.

Smiling slightly, Jace turned away from the doors, and his gaze fell on Clary. She was sitting up, staring at him with her hands tightly knotted in the bedsheets. His smile faded.

For a moment, they were both silent, worlds apart. Then Clary took a deep breath. "Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," he replied.

She swallowed. "Come sit with me," she said, nodding at the chair beside her bed.

He obliged, crossing what felt like miles to reach her bedside. Even after he sat down, the distance between them stretched on.

"How long have you known?" he said finally.

She looked into his eyes. "I found out this morning," she said, watching him closely. She seemed afraid of something.

"You should have told me," said Jace quietly.

"I know." She took a long breath. "Are you angry at me?" she asked, seeming to dread the answer.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. Another long silence passed between them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally. He looked up at her. Her eyes were shining. "Jace, I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to tell you..." She wiped away her tears. "Damn it," she said. "I hate crying." He didn't respond, and after she was more composed, she continued. "I was scared," she said softly. "I thought once you knew, everything would change. We'd have to settle down, we'd have to stop going on as many missions, and I know you love fighting—"

"I love you more," said Jace, and she met his eyes. "You think I care more about fighting than about you? About...about our kid? Fighting demons doesn't even compare to having you, Clary." He took her hand. "To having a _family_."

She gave him a watery smile and put her forehead to his. Their breath mingled in the space between them. "What if I'm not a good mom?" she whispered.

"You're the most compassionate and loving person I know," said Jace softly. "You're going to be a great mom."

"You're going to be a great dad," said Clary, and he felt her tears fall onto his cheeks. He brought his lips up to hers and kissed her, and the world melted away around them.

"Ewwww," came a voice from the doorway, and they broke apart to see Isabelle looking on in disgust. Behind her were Alec and Simon, looking amused. "You two are _so_ sappy."

"Says the girl who came home from an international trip because she missed her husband," said Jace, feeling much lighter all of a sudden.

"I missed the sex," Izzy corrected. "But Simon is a _big_ perk," she added, winking at her husband. She marched into the room, Simon and Alec following. "Clary, good to see you. You look absolutely radiant," she said briskly, yanking up a chair and plopping into it.

"Um, thanks, Izzy," said Clary, grinning. "So I guess you've all heard the news?"

"Yeah, and Jace just about gave us a heart attack telling us," said Alec, throwing Jace an amused look.

Jace shrugged. "I mean, I had to find out from a Silent Brother, and they're not the best at breaking news."

"Well, I found out as Clary was practically bleeding to death," said Simon, "so I think I win."

"Sorry, Simon," said Clary airily, "but I found out squatting over a stick, so I think _I_ win this round."

Jace laughed, throwing an arm around Clary. She smiled at him. She really did look radiant, glowing with joy.

"You know what?" she whispered in his ear as Izzy began to make plans for the baby shower, much to Simon's and Alec's chagrin.

"What?" he whispered back, brushing his lips against hers.

"I think it's going to be a boy," she said, smiling against his mouth. He grinned and pressed his lips to hers, for just a moment blissfully at peace.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this first chapter, please leave a review! Every review makes my day a little brighter :) (Also, kudos to you if you can find the Hamilton reference in this chapter.)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much to the people who left reviews for Chapter One! I so appreciate it! Also, no one has found the Hamilton reference yet—keep looking :) Without further ado, on to the story!**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

For such an adept and vigilant Shadowhunter, Jace was a remarkably deep sleeper. He hadn't always been that way, of course; before Clary, he had been eternally restless, as if his body were always on alert, ready to leap out of bed at a moment's notice. It had taken years to settle into his life with Clary, for his body to relax and trust in her. Now he slept so soundly beside her that usually only the loudest of noises could wake him.

Which is why it was concerning when, on a quiet Saturday morning, Jace found himself jolted awake as the bed shook beneath him. There was the sound of creaking bedsprings, bare feet slapping the ground, and the slam of a door.

He cracked open his eyes, blinked blearily, and turned toward Clary, only to find that her side of the bed was empty. Curiosity piqued, Jace slid out from under the covers and went in pursuit of her.

It didn't take long to find her—the light of the bathroom across the hall was on, and he could hear muffled coughing inside. He pushed open the door; Clary was hunched over the toilet, retching loudly. Her tangled red curls had been pulled up into a messy bun, which wobbled as she pulled her head out of the toilet only to immediately dive back in, vomiting again.

Jace grimaced sympathetically and knelt next to her, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. Her body shook under his hand as she coughed into the toilet again. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Does it—look like—I'm—_okay_?" Clary snapped between gasps of air.

"No...?" Jace guessed, and Clary let out a final dry cough before sitting back on her heels and fumbling for the flush. "When did this start?"

"I've been feeling nauseous for a week, but this is the first time it's come on this fast," said Clary, taking a deep breath. She still looked rather green. "Sorry I woke you up."

"I don't mind," said Jace honestly. "I don't want you to go through all this alone."

"Oh, yeah?" said Clary, scowling at him. "Let's take turns, then. How about _you_ be pregnant Monday through Wednesday, and I'll take the rest?"

"You know, Shadowhunters don't teach biology, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way," said Jace very seriously.

Clary shook her head exasperatedly and leaned back against the cool tile wall, letting out a shaky breath. After a moment or two, she stood up and went over to the sink to rinse her mouth out. Jace followed, and as she turned off the sink and dried her hands on a towel, a grin split Jace's face unexpectedly.

"Is this _funny_ to you?" said Clary in a deadly voice, glaring daggers at him.

"No," he said, taking a cautious step away from her in case she decided to turn the shower rod into a makeshift weapon. "It's just—wow. I mean, you're really pregnant. We're really having a baby."

"Yeah, I'm told that's what I get after nine months of hell," Clary muttered, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

Feeling unbelievably giddy, Jace grabbed Clary's arm and pulled her in against him.

"Oh—Jace, don't, I must be disgusting," she protested as he yanked her hair out of its bun and ran his fingers through it.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, trailing a line of kisses down her neck and onto her collarbone. "Clary Fairchild, mother of my child."

"Get any cheesier and I'll tell everyone he isn't yours," Clary warned him, but a smile played on her lips.

"Oh, please," he said, grinning. "We both know that kid's going to come out of there looking like a freaking _god_."

"Well, Simon will be happy to know you think of him that way," said Clary, smirking.

Jace wrinkled his nose. "_Gross_," he protested. "I don't want to think of you two like that!"

"Remember that time I kissed him?" said Clary, batting her eyelashes as she sighed flirtatiously.

"Now _I'm_ going to throw up," Jace declared, but they were both grinning. He bent down to kiss her again, not caring in the least that she smelled of vomit, but a shrill noise interrupted them. "Is that your cell phone?" he asked, moving past her and into their bedroom.

Her phone was ringing, vibrating enough to make it fall off the nightstand; Jace caught it just before it hit the ground and turned it over in his palm. Jocelyn's face smiled up at him.

"It's your mom," he said, tossing Clary the phone. She caught it easily, but didn't answer the call. After a moment, it stopped ringing. "You know you're supposed to answer those, right?" he said, grinning at her.

She didn't respond, staring down at the phone. Jace sighed and plucked the phone out of her hands. He tapped the voicemail icon that read: _One new message_.

_"Hi, Clary...is everything okay? You haven't been answering any of my calls or texts. Just call me back, okay? Or I can come by the Institute today if that's better. Let me know."_

Jocelyn sounded as if she were trying not to worry and failing miserably. Jace raised an eyebrow at Clary, who avoided his gaze. Jace clicked on the next voicemail, this one from yesterday morning.

_"Hey, Clary, it's Mom. Just wanted to check in again. Did you get my last message? Call me whenever you're free."_

_"Clary, hi, it's Luke. Can you call your mother back? I'm sure he didn't mean to, but Alec accidentally let slip to Maia that you were hurt, and she called us, and now your mom is freaking out...look, just call her, okay?"_

"Remind me to kill Alec," Clary muttered.

_"Clary, what's going on? Are you hurt? Maia says Alec told her you were, but also that you were okay...I don't know what to think. Please call me, Clary."_

Jace hit the off button before the next voicemail could play, but by the looks of it, Jocelyn and Luke had been calling Clary every day since they had battled the demons four days ago. He gave Clary a pointed look.

"Don't look at me like that," Clary said irritably. "I texted them that I was fine. What else am I supposed to say?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things to tell them," said Jace, glancing down at her flat stomach.

She scowled and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "I'm not telling them _that_. I wouldn't have told anyone if you hadn't all accidentally found out."

"They, you mean," said Jace. "If _they_ hadn't all accidentally found out. Because you would have told me, right?"

"Right," said Clary, not looking at him.

"_Clary._"

"I would have," she insisted. "Eventually."

He frowned, but let the subject drop. "Look, your parents clearly know something's wrong. They'll probably be relieved when you tell them you're just pregnant, not on your deathbed or something."

"It's not that," said Clary softly. "It's just...when we start telling people, it'll all feel so much more...real."

"It feels pretty real to me," Jace pointed out. "So when were you planning on telling people, then? Were you just going to wait until the baby pops out and say 'Surprise!'?"

"Okay, first," said Clary irritably, "the baby does not _pop out_. I have to _push_ him out of a very, very tiny hole. Second," she went on, ignoring Jace's wince, "I was going to tell them when...when...okay, fine, I haven't actually thought it out yet, but I _will_ tell them."

"Yeah, you will," said Jace, and before she could stop him, he clicked on her messages and began to text Jocelyn. "Hi, Jocelyn," he read out as Clary tried fruitlessly to grab the phone from him. He held it high out of her reach. "This is Jace. We'd love for you and Luke to come over for breakfast. Let us know if you're free." He punched the send button and tossed Clary her phone back. She glared at him.

"You're not getting any sex tonight," she declared. Jace was about to protest when her phone chimed. She glanced down. "Oh, great."

"What does it say?" said Jace, looking over her shoulder to read the text.

"'Yes, of course!'" Clary read aloud, with considerably less enthusiasm than the text conveyed. "'Luke and I will be at the Institute around eight.' Great. That's just perfect," Clary said, sighing as she tossed the phone back onto the nightstand.

Jace glanced over at the clock. "They'll be here in half an hour." He put his hands on Clary's shoulders. "Just try to relax, okay?"

She scowled at him. "No sex," she said again. "None."

"All right, all right, point taken," said Jace, grinning. "Come on, let's go brush our teeth and then I'll make you some pancakes."

"_Not_ pancakes," said Clary, blanching. "I think I'm going to be sick again."

"Whatever you want," Jace promised, wrapping an arm around her as they went back into the bathroom.

"I think I want eggs," said Clary musingly, grabbing her toothbrush and rinsing it under the tap.

"You hate eggs," said Jace, staring at her as if she'd gone insane.

She shrugged and squeezed toothpaste onto her brush. "I know. I'm just really in the mood for eggs today."

He shook his head, picking up his own brush. "You are _so_ weird."

"Watch it, Herondale," she said, pointing her brush at him like a weapon, "or I might extend that no sex sentence to two nights."

"No need for that," said Jace hastily, who remembered well the time Clary had made good on her promise to withdraw sex for a month. It had nearly driven him insane. "Eggs it is, then."

* * *

Clary was halfway through her fourth plate of scrambled eggs when the doorbell chimed, reverberating through the kitchen. "I'll get it," said Jace, as Clary made to stand up, her cheeks bulging with food. "You...swallow."

He headed down the hallway, wondering what he was going to say to Clary's parents. As it turned out, it didn't matter. The moment he opened the door, Jocelyn barreled past him, rushing toward the kitchen. Jace blinked after her.

"She's been worried," said Luke apologetically as Jace stood aside to let him in. "We both have. But Clary's okay?"

"She's fine," said Jace, smiling. "Let's go join them. We'll tell you everything."

They could hear Jocelyn before they even reached the kitchen. "—just don't see why you couldn't have called me back," she was saying.

"Mom," said Clary, sounding tired, "I told you I was fine."

Jace and Luke entered the kitchen. Jocelyn, sitting beside Clary, was shaking her head. "You know that isn't good enough, Clary," she said as Luke sat down on the other side of Clary and put a hand on her shoulder. "Maia told us you'd been injured by a demon. Then you don't answer your phone, and then you send us a text that you're fine? What are we supposed to think?"

"Let me make you breakfast," said Jace before Clary could respond.

"No, I'll do it," said Jocelyn impatiently, shoving her chair back violently. "I should do _something_ useful, right?" She slammed a bowl onto the counter and began measuring flour into it.

Clary put her head in her hands. "Mom," she said, her voice muffled through her fingers.

"No, it's fine, Clary," said Jocelyn, cracking an egg with such force that eggshell flew everywhere. "It's not like I've been going out of my mind with worry and you won't even tell me what's wrong—"

"She's pregnant," said Jace.

The egg slipped from Jocelyn's fingers and landed on the floor with a loud _splat_. She made no move to clean it up, staring at Jace.

"That's why we asked you to come over today," Jace continued quickly. "We wanted to tell you in person."

"Oh," said Luke, looking surprised.

There was a long, awkward pause. Finally, Luke smiled and said, "That's great news. Congratulations."

"Thanks," said Jace, smiling back at him. He glanced at Clary, but she was watching Jocelyn.

"Mom?" she said softly.

Jocelyn drew in a shaking breath. "Excuse me," she murmured, and then she turned and left the room, leaving the three of them staring after her.

"I'll go," said Luke, standing up.

"No, let me," Clary said, pushing her chair back and following her mother out of the room.

Left alone, Luke and Jace stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Jace said, "Pancakes?"

Luke blinked. "Pancakes sound great. Thanks."

Jace cleaned up the dropped egg and then went to finish the pancake mix Jocelyn had started. As he poured milk into the bowl and began to whisk the mixture together, Luke said, "So how's Clary doing, with all of this?"

Jace shrugged. "She's okay. Just tired. But I think she's happy."

"And how are you?"

Jace turned around; Luke was watching him closely. "I'm..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, I'm happy, of course. But..." He shifted awkwardly. "We, um, didn't plan this, exactly."

"Ah," said Luke, nodding. "I see."

"I just don't know if I'm prepared," Jace finished in a rush.

"In my experience, you're usually not," said Luke, chuckling. "Then again, my experience started when Clary was about five, and I was more of an uncle to her than—" He broke off suddenly. "Can you hear that?"

Jace strained his ears. He could hear a faint ringing, far off. "Someone's calling the Institute," he said, abandoning the pancake mix and hurrying out of the kitchen, towards the library. Luke followed, just on his heels.

The ringing grew louder as they entered the library. Jace, wincing at the shrill sound, picked up the phone and was met immediately with a cacophony of noise. "New York Institute," he shouted over the din.

"Jace? _Jace?_ Oh, thank the Angel, you have to get over here right away, there's a demon here and he—"

"Wait, what? Alec, slow down," said Jace, pressing the phone harder into his ear. There was a loud crash on the other end. "What's going on?"

"_There is a Prince of Hell in our living room!"_

Jace blinked. "That's new." He squinted at the phone. "Did you...summon it?"

"What?! _No!_"

"Well, I had to check!" said Jace defensively. "Alec, are the kids safe?"

"They're with Mom, Magnus Portaled them out of here as soon as it happened." Alec's voice was tight with barely repressed panic.

"Don't worry," said Jace firmly. "I'm going to call the Clave."

"Don't _worry_? There is a _Prince of Hell_—"

Jace hung up before Alec could finish.

"I take it that wasn't good news?" said Luke.

Jace swallowed. "We need to round up as many members of the Clave as we can. And we need to do it _fast._"

* * *

After several minutes of searching, Clary found her mother at the end of a corridor. Jocelyn had curled herself on the windowsill in a small alcove. Clary slowed to a stop in front of her, but Jocelyn didn't look up. "Look, I'm sorry," Clary said in a rush. "I know I should've told you earlier—"

"It's not that." Jocelyn let out a long breath. "I'm sorry, Clary. I shouldn't have run off like that. It's just..." She shook her head. "It brought back a lot of bad memories, memories I've been repressing for years."

"You mean...Jonathan." The word hung in the air between them. They rarely said his name, but when they did it still caused the same amount of pain as it had all those years ago.

"Him...and you," said Jocelyn, looking away. "I was terrified. Terrified of Valentine, of what he had done to my son. Of what he would do to you if he knew."

"Mom," said Clary softly. "Jace isn't Valentine. This is totally different."

"It's not about Jace," Jocelyn said, unfurling herself and letting her legs dangle off the windowsill. "And I know it's under completely different circumstances, but I just have this horrible feeling..." She looked back at Clary. "I think this is a mistake. I think something bad is going to come of it."

Clary caught her breath. "Mom," she whispered, hurt.

"Look what's already happened, Clary," said Jocelyn, waving a hand towards her. "From what Maia told us, that demon almost killed you."

"What does that have to do with any of this?" Clary said, trying to keep anger out of her voice.

"I don't know," said Jocelyn, sounding frustrated. "It's just—isn't it weird that you haven't been seriously injured by a demon in years, but as soon as you get pregnant, a demon almost kills you? Maybe...maybe it's a sign."

"No, it's not," said Clary. "It's—I was distracted that day. The demon got the better of me. But it doesn't have anything to do with me being pregnant. Shadowhunters get killed by demons all the time. It's always a risk."

Jocelyn looked away. "I just think this is a bad idea."

Clary took a deep breath and sat down next to Jocelyn on the windowsill. "Mom," she said softly. "Can't you please just be happy for me?"

"Clary," Jocelyn sighed. "I want to be. You know I do." She took Clary's hand, and Clary gave a reassuring squeeze. "I'm just scared for you. I can't explain it...it's just a bad feeling."

"Mom, look at me." Jocelyn's eyes met Clary's. "I'm going to be _fine_," said Clary. She gave a soft smile, and after a moment Jocelyn returned it.

"I'm sure you're right, honey," she said. "It's just me being paranoid, as usual."

Clary bumped Jocelyn's shoulder with her own. "I'm not going to turn into you in nine months, am I?"

Jocelyn laughed. "I'm afraid it's just one of the hazards of becoming a mother."

Clary grinned and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. They sat there for a while; then, slowly, Clary became aware of a growing clamor at the end of the hallway. She sat up straight. "What the..."

She slid off the windowsill and made her way down the corridor, following the noise, with Jocelyn close on her heels. As they approached the library, the noise grew almost deafening.

The library was packed with people. Jocelyn made a beeline for Luke, who was standing by himself at the far end of the room, but Clary lingered in the doorway, taking in the scene. A fair portion of the New York Conclave was scattered through the room, complete with Simon and Isabelle tucked away in a corner. Isabelle was very pale, and it looked like Simon was trying to console her.

"He'll be okay, Izzy, he knows how to take care of himself," Simon was saying as Clary approached.

"What's going on?" she said, looking back and forth between them.

Isabelle glanced up. Her eyes were rimmed with red. "Someone summoned a Prince of Hell," she said in a tight voice. "And they sent it to Magnus and Alec's apartment."

Clary felt the blood drain from her face. Before she could say anything, a man spoke up behind her.

"_Someone_?" he scoffed. He was a tall, middle-aged man with thick salt-and-pepper hair cascading in waves over his scalp. Clary recognized him from Conclave meetings; his name was Lance Kingsmill. He had come to New York just after the Dark War, and his anti-Downworlder beliefs frequently drove Jace and Clary to frustration. "A demon that powerful can only be summoned by an exceptionally powerful warlock," he continued, wrinkling his nose. "You expect me to believe it is mere coincidence that the demon is in the home of one such warlock?"

"Don't you dare," Isabelle snapped, advancing towards him. "Don't you _dare_ insinuate Magnus is behind this, after all he's done for us!"

"There's no time for this!" Jace shouted as Kingsmill opened his mouth to argue. "Regardless of who summoned it, lives are in danger. Shadowhunter and mundane lives," he added, with a pointed look at Kingsmill. "If you don't have weapons, grab some." He pointed at a table by the door that was stacked with various swords and seraph blades. "Clary," he said, beckoning to her, "come over here."

She moved through the crowd of people until she reached him. "I can help," she said immediately. "My sword is still upstairs, though—"

"What?" Jace said, looking startled. "You're not coming."

She stared at him. "What do you mean, I'm not coming? This is Alec and Magnus! Why wouldn't I come?"

"You know why," said Jace in an undertone, with a meaningful glance towards her stomach.

"Oh." She put a hand on it. "But...pregnant Shadowhunters fight all the time."

"Not against a Prince of Hell!" said Jace, sounding frustrated.

"Well, then, you're not going either, are you?" Clary said, folding her arms.

"Of course I'm going!" said Jace impatiently. "Look, I asked you over here because I need you to make a Portal."

"Hang on," said Clary stubbornly. "If I have to stay behind, why don't you?"

"Because," Jace snapped, "you're the one who's pregnant!"

"This is your baby, too!" Clary shouted. "What if you get killed?"

"I _won't_—"

"You might!" She grabbed his arm as he tried to move past her. "Jace, don't you dare—"

"Um, Clary—" Isabelle muttered behind her.

"_What?_" she snarled. It was only then that she noticed how quiet the library had gotten. Each and every one of the Shadowhunters was staring at them. Flushing slightly, Clary loosened her hold on Jace's arm. He wrenched it away from her.

"Are we going or not?" he snapped at the waiting Shadowhunters. They immediately sprang into action, gathering their weapons. Jace, not looking at Clary, strapped on a weapons belt and began to load it with seraph blades. He snatched up a small, ornate golden box, stared at it for a moment, and then slipped it into his pocket.

"Jace," Clary said, struggling to keep her voice calm.

"Don't."

She glared at the back of his head. "Fine," she snapped. She snatched up a stele, marched over to a blank wall, and began to draw with such force that the dark lines were almost splintered. The Portal roared into existence and she put her hand to it, visualizing the interior of Magnus and Alec's apartment. One by one, the Shadowhunters stepped into the whirling maelstrom. Jace was the last to approach it.

"Jace, wait," said Clary as he was about to enter the Portal.

"What?" he said, still avoiding her gaze.

She swallowed, hard. "Be careful," she whispered.

He met her eyes. Slowly, he nodded. Then he stepped forward and the Portal swallowed him up.

* * *

**A/N: I realize this chapter is a bit shorter than the last. This and Chapter Three were originally one chapter, but it was way too long, so I had to split it up. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review if you did, I would greatly appreciate it!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Noise crashed down on Jace's ears the moment he leapt out of the Portal. It was disorienting; Shadowhunters rushed past him, shouting to each other; there was a crash of breaking glass, and a roar so loud the floor shook below Jace. Sucking in a breath, he let his eyes travel upward.

The demon towered over the Shadowhunters. His skin was the color of blood, as if he had once been human but all his skin had been stripped away until you could only see muscle. He seemed gargantuan in the confines of Alec and Magnus's apartment; Jace judged his height at around fifteen feet. The demon's head scraped the ceiling as he drew himself up to his full height and let out another roar, lunging forward. Jace instinctively recoiled, but the demon slammed against an invisible barrier and fell back, seething.

Carefully, Jace approached the demon. Up close, he could see the runes encircling it, keeping it at bay. Warlock magic.

Magnus was slumped against the opposite wall, leaning against Alec and looking pale and sickly. He glanced up as Jace hurried over to them.

"Good of you to show up," he said feebly. He gazed around at the two dozen Shadowhunters in the apartment. "With the cavalry," he added, smiling slightly.

He sat up a little straighter, and as the runes around the demon glowed blue, he grew paler. Alec watched him, his eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?" he said in a low voice.

"I'm..." Magnus let out a pained gasp. "Fine," he finished, wincing.

"No, you're not," said Jace. "You can't keep the barrier up forever."

"I can try," said Magnus through gritted teeth.

"I'll give you my strength," said Alec immediately, placing his hand in Magnus's. "Take it."

"Even then," said Magnus, breathing shallowly as blue light glowed between their fingers, "I won't be able to keep it up for more than two minutes."

"Well, then," said Jace, straightening up. "Looks like we'll have to take this fight to him."

And before either of them could protest, Jace marched straight up to the demon, drawing his sword as he did. "Demon!" he shouted. "Who sent you? What do you want?"

The demon regarded him with contempt. "Demon?" he repeated, sneering. His voice was painful to hear, like nails on a chalkboard. "I have a name. _Beelzebub._"

"Bless you," said Jace.

"I _did not sneeze_."

"That's your _name_?" said Jace, feigning shock. Behind him, he heard Alec let out a soft groan. "Man, who pissed off your parents?"

He snarled. "You dare insult me? I could crush your bones with my bare hands!"

"I don't see that happening anytime soon," said Jace, glancing at the circle of runes. He was bluffing, and they both knew it. The runes glowed feebly. "Now answer my questions or I'll kill you where you stand."

Beelzebub drew himself up to his full height, looking down in disdain. His eyes bore into Jace's, a fiery scarlet. "Who sent me? What you really want to ask, little Shadowhunter, is which warlock you're allowed to dismember. You'll find I've saved you that trouble."

Jace clenched his jaw. "What do you want?" he growled.

The demon grinned, lifted a long arm, and pointed. "_Him."_

Jace's heart lurched, and he knew even before he looked who Beelzebub was pointing at.

Magnus glanced up at Beelzebub, looking thoughtful. "I don't remember pissing you off," he said offhandedly.

Jace turned back to the demon. "If you wanted a warlock, then why did you kill the warlock who raised you?"

"Oh, I want _this_ particular warlock," said Beelzebub, his blood-red eyes glittering hungrily.

"_Why?_" Jace ground out.

The demon smiled, showing his sharp, pointed teeth. "You are a stupid one, aren't you?" Jace grit his teeth. "A mere warlock child like the one who raised me has very little power. I want something more..._potent_." He cast his eyes over to Magnus, who had gone pale.

Alec flung himself to his feet, shielding Magnus's body with his own. "You're not getting Magnus," he snarled at the demon.

The demon gave a laugh like razors clashing together. "We'll see about that," he said, and he slammed his fist into the barrier.

Red light exploded through the room, and Jace averted his eyes from the blazing arc of light. Magnus's runes glowed blue—he had stood up, leaning heavily against the wall, and his hand was outstretched as if he could ward off the demon. Beelzebub laughed again and pushed the red light further. The runes glowed again, fiercely, fleetingly—and then Magnus collapsed, and his barrier went down with him.

Alec let out a shout and ran to Magnus as he crumpled to the floor, unmoving. The demon gave a long sigh, stretched, and stepped forward.

"Shadowhunters," shouted Kingsmill, "_Attack!_"

Arrows whistled through the air, swords slashed in a whirl of metal, seraph blades exploded into light. The demon let out a snarl, waving an enormous hand; the arrows stopped inches from him and fell to the floor, useless. Shadowhunters let out cries of pain and dropped their swords as their handles grew red-hot.

The demon was laughing, hurling blasts of red magic at the Shadowhunters even as they whipped seraph blades towards him. They crumpled where they stood, dropping like marionettes whose strings had been cut, and their seraph blades tumbled from their hands. Jace caught his breath and hefted his sword higher, trying to ignore the bodies around him and simultaneously praying that they were just knocked out, that he hadn't just led over a dozen Shadowhunters to their deaths.

Beelzebub moved through the crowd, kicking the bodies aside as if they were bugs. He stretched out a hand, reaching for Magnus.

Jace flung himself between the demon and Magnus, his sword slashing through the air in an arc. The demon let out a roar, recoiling as sludgy ichor dripped from his mangled wrist. He snarled, and in a movement too quick for Jace to catch, his arm swung forward.

He heard Alec and Izzy shout out as the demon's hand closed around him. He was yanked off his feet, whipped into the air, his sword uselessly pinned to his side.

"_Jace!"_ Isabelle screamed, and she ran forward—but then Simon was there, blocking her way, and Jace made a mental note to thank him later, after they survived this.

_If _they survived this.

"Jace Herondale," the demon echoed in a drawling voice, looking him over. "I've heard of you. The _angel_ boy." Jace struggled to bring his sword up, but Beelzebub held him too tightly. "I should kill you here and now. You are an _abomination_."

"Says the fifteen-foot talking mountain of blood," Jace snapped. "Seriously, have you thought about skin grafts?"

The demon sneered at him, and Jace felt him tighten his grip. He bit back a cry as he felt his ribs crack.

"STOP!" Izzy screamed, still fighting Simon. "LET HIM GO!"

Beelzebub scoffed, as if mildly irritated, and waved a hand at Simon and Isabelle. A wave of red magic blasted them back and they flew through the air before slamming into a wall and collapsing, motionless.

Jace swallowed back a wave of terror. _Please let them be okay...it's my fault if they're not okay...please... _He strained harder against the demon's grip, his ribs screaming in protest.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jace saw Kingsmill struggle to his feet. He was one of three Shadowhunters still standing. Magnus and Alec's apartment was a scene of disaster, bodies strewn everywhere. Magnus and Alec themselves were still slumped against the wall, though Magnus seemed to be regaining consciousness.

The demon glowered down at Jace. "Since I am merciful, I'll let you choose how you want to be killed. Shall I choke the life out of you? Or cut you a thousand times until you bleed out?"

"Don't," came a weak voice. Jace craned his neck to see Magnus pulling himself up shakily.

"Magnus," said Alec, his voice cracking as he gripped Magnus's arm, "_please_."

"I'll go with you," said Magnus, though his eyes shone as he said it. "I'll go. Don't kill anyone else. Let him go."

The demon grinned, clearly drinking in the despair around him. "As you wish," he said, and he opened his fist.

Jace fell, too quickly to orient himself, and landed awkwardly on one leg. It crumpled beneath him, sending a wave of pain up to match that from his ribs. He struggled to stand, to do something other than watch as the demon stepped forward to claim Magnus.

Something hard was pressing against Jace's side. He put a hand to his pocket—and remembered.

The demon extended a hand.

And in a feat of unbelievable strength, Jace leapt forward and opened the box that had been in his pocket.

The demon let out a horrible screech as a blast of light exploded from the box. The light engulfed him, dissolving him, pulling him by tendrils into the box. With a final roar, Beelzebub vanished into the Pyxis and Jace crumpled, letting the box fall from his hands as he succumbed to the pain.

* * *

"Jace? Jace, please wake up, please..."

The world was hazy around him. He opened his eyes blearily, taking mental inventory of his injuries: three ribs broken, maybe four. His ankle was definitely sprained, and he could feel a concussion coming on.

Alec's blue eyes came into focus. He let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the Angel," he breathed.

Jace tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as pain washed over him. "Just relax," said Alec, and Jace felt the welcome sting of a stele. The pain began to ease.

"Izzy," he mumbled, swallowing against his dry throat.

"She's okay," said Alec, but Jace felt his hand shake against his skin. "She and Simon are hurt, but they'll be okay."

"How many..." Jace swallowed again, dreading the question. "How many are dead?"

"Jace..."

"Just tell me."

Alec bit his lip. "Seven."

Jace closed his eyes, guilt washing over him. "It's my fault," he said quietly. "I didn't think this through, didn't stop to come up with a plan. Seven people are dead because of _me_."

"They're dead because of the demon," Alec said, inking another _iratze_ into Jace's skin. "And if you'd waited any longer, the demon would have escaped and more people would have died." He tucked the stele back into his belt. "Shadowhunters die. They knew it was a possibility, especially when fighting a Prince of Hell. They made the choice to come."

"If it had been any of you—"

"It _wasn't_," said Alec gently. "We're all okay because of you."

Footsteps approached them, and Jace looked up to see Magnus. He looked exhausted, but the color was coming back into his face. "Are you okay?" Jace asked.

Magnus let out a short, humorless laugh. "I should be asking you that." He regarded Jace. "You saved my life."

Jace shrugged, though the movement sent dull pain rippling through him. "You would have done the same. You almost _did_ do the same."

"About that," said Alec, turning to Magnus. "You didn't mean it, right? You wouldn't have given yourself up?"

Magnus looked away. "I don't know. I might have, if I'd had to."

"But what about Max and Rafe?" said Alec, and his voice shook slightly. "Did you think of them?"

"I didn't want anyone else to die for me," said Magnus softly. "I wasn't thinking straight, Alec. I'm sorry."

Alec's gaze softened, and he looked away. "I know," he said. "I know you are." Magnus set a hand on Alec's head, and Alec closed his eyes at the touch. "Are you feeling better?" Alec asked quietly.

"I'm fine," said Magnus. "Strong enough to make a Portal. We should get everyone out of here."

Alec turned his head up, kissing Magnus's palm. Magnus lingered for a moment before going over to the wall and beginning to create the Portal.

"Alec," said Jace, and Alec looked down, surprised, as if he had forgotten Jace was there. "Don't be too hard on him. You would have done the same thing."

"I might have once," said Alec quietly. "But we have kids now. It's different." He shook his head. "When you have kids, you put them first. Every time. Before, I wouldn't have thought twice before sacrificing myself, because I knew you could all manage without me. But now..." He smiled wearily. "Anyway, you'll know soon, won't you?"

Before Jace had a chance to respond, the Portal opened behind them, a whirling bright blue vortex. Jace sat up slowly; the Pyxis was lying on its side a foot away. He picked it up and slid it into his pocket. It felt warm against his leg; he thought he felt a pulsing energy coming off it. Alec pulled Jace's arm over his shoulders, supporting him as he stood up. He tested his ankle gingerly; it shook violently the moment he put weight on it. He suspected he would have to stay off it for a couple of days, even with constant _iratzes_.

He looked around at the destruction before him. The surviving Shadowhunters, nursing their wounds, were already making plans for the funerals of those who had been killed. Jace knew he ought to stay and help, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the bodies, bodies of people that were only there because he had asked them to be.

Izzy and Simon had already made their way to the Portal. Izzy smiled at him reassuringly, but from the way she was holding her wrist it was clear that it had been injured. Simon had a healing cut on his forehead and was favoring his left leg slightly, but seemed otherwise unhurt.

"Jace, are you okay?" said Izzy immediately, surveying him worriedly.

"I'm fine," said Jace. "What about you? Both of you?" he added, glancing at Simon.

"Healing," he said with a strained smile. "Nothing we'll die from."

Jace nodded tersely. "Let's get going, then."

Isabelle took over from Alec, letting Jace lean on her as he limped to the Portal. He took a final glance back at the destroyed apartment and the broken bodies, before Isabelle ushered him into the Portal and he let himself be carried away.

* * *

Clary was curled up on the armchair in the library, picking at a hole in the upholstery. The room was quiet; everyone had gone through the Portal, leaving only Clary and her parents. Jocelyn and Luke were huddled in a corner, murmuring to each other. Clary let their voices drift into the background, staring down at the floor without really seeing it.

"Clary?"

She looked up. Jocelyn and Luke had made their way over to her. Jocelyn reached out and automatically tucked a stray curl behind Clary's ear. "Are you all right, honey?"

She nodded, giving a tired smile, but didn't say anything.

"Can we get you anything, Clary?" said Luke, his eyes dark with worry. "Coffee, tea, hot chocolate?"

"Tea sounds good, thank you," said Clary. Luke nodded and dropped a kiss on the top of her head before leaving the room, his footsteps echoing as he walked down the corridor.

Jocelyn perched herself on the arm of Clary's chair. "So," she said quietly. "Do you want to talk?"

Clary looked away. "There's nothing to talk about," she said.

Jocelyn made a soft noise, but didn't say anything; Clary suspected her mother was waiting for her to say something first.

Finally, after a long moment, Clary said softly, "I just...I thought things would be different." She could feel Jocelyn watching her. She stared off into the distance, her eyes unfocused. "I thought once he knew, he might think twice about the way he fights. He always has to be the first one to throw himself into danger, the one who leads the charge. I thought maybe now that we're...maybe he'd want to hang back, at least a little. I thought..." Her vision blurred. "I thought he'd _care_."

"Oh, Clary," Jocelyn murmured. She slid an arm around Clary's shoulders and pulled her in against her side. "He _does_ care. I'm sure he does."

"Really?" said Clary, her voice hardening. "Then how come it was so easy for him to step into that Portal?"

Jocelyn took one of Clary's hands in her own. "Jace...Jace will always want to fight. It's how Valentine raised him. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care."

Clary didn't say anything; her throat felt too tight. Jocelyn sighed. "I wish there was something I could say to make this better," she said.

Clary shook her head. "Forget it. It's fine."

Luke returned, carrying a steaming mug of tea. "Thank you," said Clary as he handed it to her.

"Of course," said Luke, smiling softly. "And if you need anything, we're here for you."

"I know," said Clary. "I'm okay, though. You guys should go home."

They exchanged a glance. "Are you sure, Clary?" said Jocelyn worriedly. "We can stay, if you want."

"It's okay," Clary said. "Seriously, I'll be all right. I think...I want to be alone for a while."

Her parents watched her for a moment. Finally, Jocelyn leaned over and kissed Clary's cheek. "Call us if you need anything at all," she said, smoothing Clary's hair.

"I will," said Clary, allowing Luke to kiss her, too. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Luke said. Jocelyn gave her one last smile before turning away. They walked out of the library, Luke slipping his hand into Jocelyn's.

Clary sighed, feeling drained. She leaned back into her chair, taking a long sip of her tea. Somehow, her free hand had made its way to rest over her stomach. She let it stay there, feeling oddly protective of the little life inside her.

Suddenly, a loud whooshing noise jolted her out of her thoughts. She set the mug down and sprang to her feet as the Portal opened and a lopsided creature emerged; it took her a moment to realize that the creature was actually two people, one leaning heavily on the other.

Clary caught her breath.

Jace glanced up at her. She could see that Isabelle was supporting him and that he wasn't putting any weight on one leg. From the way he was breathing, she knew he must have cracked several ribs. He looked unsteady and pale, his hair tangled across his forehead.

She crossed the room in two strides, seizing Jace's free arm and pulling it over her shoulders. Together, she and Izzy managed to deposit him on the sofa just as Simon clambered out of the Portal behind them.

"The rest of the Shadowhunters are going to stay a little longer," he informed them as he stripped off his gear jacket. "They have to arrange the funerals."

"The funerals?" Clary echoed, her heartbeat quickening as she knelt beside Jace. "How—" She glanced at Jace, who had closed his eyes. "How bad was it? How many are dead?"

"Seven," said Jace quietly, without opening his eyes.

"Yeah, well, there would have been eight if you'd been any more stupid," Isabelle muttered, throwing herself into Clary's abandoned armchair. Simon followed and sat across from her in another tall chair.

Clary looked at her quickly. "What do you mean?"

"Jace almost died, as usual," said Izzy airily.

"Isabelle," Jace said, sounding weary.

"No, don't," said Clary sharply. "I want to hear this." She turned back to Isabelle. "I want to know everything that happened."

"Well, I don't remember everything, having been knocked out for some of it," said Izzy cheerfully, kicking her legs up on a small table that wobbled precariously. "But I can give you the gist."

And she told Clary what had happened, Simon filling in details that she'd forgotten. Jace was silent the entire time, though he looked exhausted and defeated.

When they were finished, there was a long silence. Finally, Clary said quietly, "Can you two give us a minute? I think I need to talk to my husband alone."

Isabelle and Simon exchanged a look, but complied. Simon gave Clary a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as they left.

Jace let out a long breath and opened his eyes, watching her. "Clary—"

"I need to know," she said, cutting him off. "I need to know the truth." She took a deep breath. "The day you found out I was pregnant, you told me that this family was worth more to you than fighting. Did you mean any of it?"

Jace sat up slowly, his gold eyes searching her green ones. "I don't..."

"Because if you did," she said quietly, "you would have stayed when I asked you to today. You would have stayed because if you die—" Her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. "If you die," she continued, "you leave me alone. You leave your child without a father. And you know—you of _all_ people know—what losing a father feels like."

"Fine," said Jace, sighing. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

Clary caught her breath. "What?"

He pushed himself up against the sofa, sitting up straighter and facing her directly. "My whole life, I've been trained to fight. Valentine raised me to be a soldier, raised me in the belief that Shadowhunters honor their duty above all else. Maybe..." He looked away. "Maybe I can't be a soldier and a dad at the same time. Maybe I don't want to be."

"What are you trying to say?" Clary whispered.

"I'm saying," he said, sounding frustrated, "that I didn't expect any of this to happen. We didn't plan this."

"What are you trying to say?" said Clary again, her voice rising.

_"I don't want to be a dad!"_

She recoiled at the vehemence in his voice. Seeming to realize what he'd said, Jace slumped against the cushions. "At least not now," he said in a lower voice. "I'm not ready. _We're_ not ready."

She could only stare at him, hurt and angry and numb all at the same time. "Well," she said finally, in a shaking voice, "ready or not, we're having a baby. So you'd better grow up and accept it."

He looked at her bleakly. "Clary, I can't...do this." He drew in a breath. "I was talking to Alec earlier. He was telling me how everything he does is for his kids now, and the whole time he was talking, all I could think was that I couldn't do that. I can't be as selfless as he is."

Clary let out a derisive scoff. "That's bullshit and you know it," she said bluntly. She shoved herself to her feet. "The only reason you're saying all this now," she told him, folding her arms, "is because you're scared. You're scared of even the _tiniest_ bit of responsibility, because it means you can't be reckless anymore, can't throw your life away like it doesn't matter. You were so _happy_ this morning, Jace. You were ready to be a dad until you realized how much you'd have to give up to do it."

"That's not why I'm saying this!" Jace shouted.

"Yes," said Clary quietly, "it is."

There was a moment in which they stared at each other, Jace's eyes full of simmering anger.

Finally, she turned away from him. "When you've finally grown up, come find me," she said without looking at him. She didn't wait for a response, just walked out of the library without glancing back as her hand slid back to her stomach.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks again to my reviewers! You give me so much joy :) Hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please leave a review! (Bonus points if you can spot the very, very obscure In the Heights reference, yes I'm obsessed with Lin-Manuel Miranda.)**

**As always, thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The dinner table was unbearably quiet, the silence pressing down on Jace like a weight. Clary's fork clinked against her plate softly as she twirled it in her pasta. He could read her face like a book, could see that she wasn't hungry but that she knew she should eat. She might have told him this herself, but they hadn't spoken in three days, ten hours, and twelve minutes. Not that he was counting.

He kept telling himself she was being irrational, that she should be the first to apologize; and yet every time he saw her absentmindedly brush her fingers across her stomach, or heard her dash out of the room in the morning to throw up, he felt a ripple of guilt, immediately followed by a wave of fear and that constant, crushing thought: _I can't do this._

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. Clary glanced up as he took his plate to the counter and began to scrape his untouched food into a small Tupperware box.

"Don't."

He froze, his fork poised over his plate.

"You're not going to eat it anyway," said Clary wearily from behind him. "Just throw it."

Jace stood there for a moment, disbelieving, before he set the plate and fork down on the counter and turned away, walking out of the kitchen.

"Jace," Clary called after him, but he quickened his pace, not knowing where he was going or why, just needing to get away from her and those sad eyes that wracked him with guilt. He turned down random corridors until he found himself at the doors to the library, his feet having carried him there unconsciously. He pushed the doors open and went inside.

Bright moonlight streamed through the window on the opposite wall, illuminating the room even before the witchlight flickered on. Neither Jace nor Clary had been in the library since the day they had fought. The side table was still piled with spare weapons, and there were faint scorch marks on the wall where Clary had made the Portal. Jace's gaze snagged on the box that was sitting, unassuming, on the arm of the sofa. The Pyxis.

It was a small thing, hardly bigger than his hand. The outside was decorated with carved swirls and whorls, the whole thing painted a deep, glittering gold. Ornate and almost ornamental, it was impossible to tell from the outside that it contained a deadly, powerful demon.

He felt himself move towards it, almost in a trance. There was a strange energy around it, dark and tumultuous, churning from within the box. He picked it up gingerly; the metal was cold enough to make his fingertips hurt, but for some reason he couldn't seem to let it go. He had the strangest urge to open it, to release the demon; his fingers strayed to the latch—

"Jace?"

He wrenched his hands away from the Pyxis, letting it fall to the ground. His heart was pounding, his fingers burning where they had touched the box. There were footsteps behind him, slow and unsure.

"Jace?" said Clary again. "Are you all right?"

He didn't answer, just snatched the Pyxis back up and crossed over to the staircase. He heard Clary sigh, following him as he climbed to the second level of the library and slid the Pyxis onto a bookshelf, nestling it against the bindings of the books.

"Jace, please," said Clary softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Please talk to me." He let her turn him towards her. She slid her thumb across his cheekbone, her eyes searching his. "We can figure this out," she whispered. "Please, Jace."

He tilted his head towards hers instinctively as she pulled him down to her, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips brushed—

And a clanging bell cut through the Institute. Jace tore himself away from Clary, stumbling backward. Guilt settled again in his stomach.

"Jace," Clary whispered, reaching for him, but he turned away from her, hurrying back down the staircase and out of the library.

This time, she didn't follow him.

* * *

The Institute's doorbell usually only rang at night for one of three reasons.

One: Mundane kids daring each other to touch the creepy, broken-down church.

Two: Pizza delivery.

Three: Downworlders in trouble.

Knowing this, Jace was unsurprised when he opened the door to find a young girl collapsed against the wall, face taut with pain. Her skin was a pale, pearly white, marred by the dark veins that showed through it, like cracks in porcelain. When she opened her mouth to speak, Jace saw the tips of her fangs shine in the darkness.

"Please," she said weakly. "Help me."

He approached her cautiously. She was hunched over, her hands fisted against her stomach. She couldn't have been older than fourteen. Jace crouched beside her, stretching out a hand. "What's your name?" he asked softly.

"Em-Emily," she whispered, laying her trembling hand in his.

He helped her to her feet; she was trembling, knees buckling from the effort. He pulled her arm around his shoulders. "I'm Jace," he said. "I'm the head of this Institute. Do you think you can make it to the Sanctuary? It's not far."

"I—I think so," she said feebly. She took a few hesitant steps, her body shaking against his.

"How long has it been since you fed?" said Jace quietly as they moved slowly towards the Sanctuary.

"I don't know...a week, maybe."

"Are you with a clan? Do you know who turned you?"

"I don't remember," said Emily, her voice shaking. "It was dark...there were so many of them. I remember...pain..." She shuddered. "And then I remember waking up in the woods, covered in blood...I think I killed a deer or something. I—I didn't mean to..." She had begun to cry, red-tinged tears streaking her white face.

"It's okay," said Jace soothingly. "You're going to be fine. I know the leader of the New York clan. We can get you some blood, and then the clan can protect you."

"I just want to go home," Emily whispered.

"I know," Jace said softly.

They had reached the Sanctuary. Jace set Emily down for a moment on the stoop so he could detach his key ring from his belt. He slid the key into the lock, wincing as it screeched open, spraying flakes of rust into the air. Clipping the keys back onto his belt, he turned to help Emily up—only to find that she was no longer there.

He swore under his breath, spinning around. "Emily?" he shouted into the darkness. His voice echoed in the eerie quiet. He listened intently for any sound that might lead him to her, but all he could hear was the rustling of leaves as the wind whistled by. Jace swore again, turning back around—and stumbled backwards as he found his nose inches from Emily's.

"By the Angel, Emily, I thought you'd been kidnapped or something," Jace said, letting out a breath of relief. "Where did you go?"

She bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped behind her. In that moment, she looked very young. Her face was still streaked with bloody tears, but she didn't seem upset at all. "I was looking for this," she said, pulling her hands out from behind her. She was holding a large rock, the bottom still wet with mud. Her nails were caked in dirt and grass, too, as if she had pried the rock out of the ground.

Jace stared at her. "Well..." he said uncertainly, "I'm not sure now is the time to get a new pet rock. Let's go into the Sanctuary, okay?"

He pushed the door open for her, but she stayed where she was, letting out a shrill giggle. Jace was suddenly struck with a vivid memory of Maureen. "It's not a pet," said Emily, smiling wide enough that Jace could see each of her pointed teeth. "It's a weapon."

"A...weapon," Jace repeated slowly. "And what do you need a weapon for?"

Emily giggled again, leaning in towards him. Her face seemed to flicker, the pearly skin turning brown and wrinkled, the eyes turning black as onyx. "My master sends his regards," she hissed in his ear, and then she brought the rock down.

* * *

_Clary..._

She opened her eyes blearily, wincing as her neck twinged in pain. It took her a moment to orient herself; she must have dozed off in the armchair after Jace left. Rubbing her neck, she sat up slowly.

_Clary..._

She paused as the whisper echoed in her ears, a strange hiss that seemed to come from within her own mind.

_Clary..._

As she strained her ears, a faint rattling reached them. She glanced up to the second floor, curious, and then stood and made her way up the stairs.

The Pyxis sat on the bookshelf where Jace had left it. Clary had been right; the latch was fluttering, clattering against the box, but the box itself was almost unnaturally still, as if it should somehow betray the movements of the creature inside it but didn't.

_Clary..._

She shivered as the whisper grew louder, calling her from inside the box. It seemed to be exuding an icy energy, wrapping around her as she stretched out a hand—

The sound of a door opening somewhere in the Institute echoed down the corridor. She stepped back from the Pyxis, Jace's name on her lips—but something stopped her from calling out. She listened more closely. Footsteps were approaching the library, but they did not sound like Jace's; they scraped against the stone floors, shuffling unevenly down the hallway. Her heartbeat quickening, Clary crept down the staircase and into the shadows beneath it. The table was still stacked with weapons; she plucked a sword off the top of the pile and held it close, ready to strike out at any moment.

The footsteps came to a halt and a shadow fell across the library floor. Clary peered out from her hiding place and had to stifle a cry of shock. Standing in the doorway was a ghastly figure, a half-rotted corpse with bulging black eyeballs. Stringy hair hung down from its scalp, just brushing its exposed collarbones. As the creature moved into the room, its tattered clothes fluttered aside to reveal withered brown skin stretched thin over its ribcage.

"Where are you?" said the creature. Its voice was raspy, a coarse whisper in the silent room. Clary's heart pounded more insistently as the creature took a step toward her hiding place. Then, like a flash of lightning, a bright red light burst through the room, bathing Clary in its bloody glow.

The creature's eyes locked on hers. It let out a terrible screech, lunging for her. Clary leapt out from beneath the staircase, swinging out at the creature with her sword and slashing a long arc across its chest. Though the skin split, no blood spilled. The creature advanced, its torn skin flapping. Red light pulsed through the room, almost in sync with Clary's heartbeat.

"Hand over the Pyxis," the creature hissed. Clary sucked in a startled breath, and the creature chuckled. "I know it's here. Give it to me now and I won't kill you."

"You're wrong," said Clary, her heart pounding. "I don't know where it is."

"Liar!" the creature snarled. Its head whipped around, black eyes swiveling in its skull. Clary followed its gaze; the red light was still flashing, pulsing out from between the bookcases on the upper level.

"Found you," the creature breathed, turning away from Clary. Without thinking, Clary leapt forward and flung her arms around the creature's chest, tackling it to the floor. It screeched, rolling over and pinning her to the ground. She struggled to free herself, but her sword was trapped between her and the creature. With all her might, she snapped her head forward, hearing it collide with the creature's with a satisfying _crack_. The creature's grip loosened enough for her to free herself; she scrambled to her feet just as the creature got to its own, lifting its head. Clary's stomach turned over as she saw that its skull had caved in. It smiled at her, advancing lopsidedly.

"I was looking forward to fighting a Nephilim," it said. "I'd heard you were good, but your husband was _such_ a disappointment." It wiggled its fingers at her, and Clary saw that they were coated in something wet and dark.

It felt as if an ice cube had slipped into her stomach. "What did you do to him?" she whispered.

The creature chuckled. "I'm sure you'll see him soon." Clary's heart constricted, but before she had a chance to think, the creature flung itself at her again. Instinctively, she slashed out, grazing its chest. It chuckled and lunged again, forcing her backward. She feinted to the left, then lunged the other way, swinging a leg out to sweep the creature's feet out from under it. It let out a shout, crashing down to the floor, but Clary had already dashed for the stairs.

"_No!_" screamed the creature, and it leapt forward, tearing after her. Clary swung around the banister, diving between the bookcases to snatch up the still-glowing Pyxis.

All at once, pain exploded in her mind. She let out a cry, stumbling backwards as the library dissolved in front of her, transforming before her eyes. She saw Jace, as clearly as if he were a foot in front of her, crumpled and bleeding from the head, too still, too pale.

A voice echoed inside her mind, too dark and sinister to be her own. _Yes,_ it whispered. _I know your fears, Clarissa Fairchild. And I can make them all come true._

A sharp pain sliced through her abdomen and her knees gave out. She slid to the floor, pain rippling across her back. Something warm gushed between her legs.

"N-no," she gasped, a strangled sob escaping her throat.

_Give the demon the Pyxis._

_No,_ she thought. _I can't. I won't._

_Give it the Pyxis!_

_No!_

_GIVE IT THE PYXIS!_

"NO!" Clary screamed, tightening her hold on the Pyxis. The pain exploded into a white-hot inferno, enveloping her in agony. The wetness between her legs grew uncontrollably. She let out another sob as the demon skidded up the stairs.

With a gargantuan effort, Clary struggled to her feet, white spots dancing before her eyes. The creature charged, and she swung her sword in a wide arc, severing the demon's skull from its body. Ichor sprayed at last, and the corpse collapsed, crumbling to ash as black smoke poured from its neck. Clary heard a faint screech as the smoke dissipated.

The pain was blinding; she could hear the voice from the Pyxis shrieking inside her head as she fell to her knees, in too much agony to even scream. The sword fell from her hand with a clatter.

She struggled to draw breath, but the pain was all-consuming. The Pyxis tumbled from her limp fingers, her head hit the ground, and everything went black.

* * *

"Clary? Clary, by the Angel, please..._please_..."

A soft moan escaped her. Her whole body was throbbing, ripples of pain washing over her. She peeled her eyelids open, wincing at the harsh light.

"_Clary..._" came a soft voice. Someone's fingers slid through her hair. She blinked hazily as golden eyes came into focus above her.

"Thank the Angel," Jace whispered, his voice shaking. His hair was matted with blood on one side, standing out starkly against his pale face.

"Jace," she murmured.

"Shh," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple as he reached for his belt. "You're okay." She felt the sting of a stele healing the burns from the demon's blood.

"Jace," she whispered again, "am I bleeding?"

"What?" he said. "No, it's just ichor. You're going to be fine. See?" He lifted her arm to show her the already-healing burns.

"Not there." She took in a shuddering breath, willing herself not to cry. "I think...I think I'm having a miscarriage."

The color drained from Jace's face. "Oh. _Oh._" He swallowed visibly. "Clary—"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Please just check," she whispered.

There was a moment's hesitation before he moved. She felt him gently spread her legs apart, his fingers delicate against her skin. She squeezed her eyes tighter. _Please, please...I'll do anything..._

He exhaled softly. "You're okay," he said, his voice cracking in relief. "You're okay, you're not bleeding. Clary..."

And then his hands were on her arms, pulling her in towards him in a hug so tight it almost hurt. Clary wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back. He was shaking, she realized, so hard she could feel her own body vibrating.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered, and his voice broke. "I thought you had died, and the last thing I'd said to you was that I didn't want to be a dad...but I want to, Clary, I want this baby, and I was such an _idiot_...and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He pulled away from her, and she saw that he was crying. She reached up and wiped his tears away. "It's okay," she said softly. "Shh. It's okay."

His face crumpled into fresh tears, and she felt tears of relief spring to her eyes, too. She slid her arms around him and he brought his lips to hers, kissing her fiercely.

When they finally pulled apart, their cheeks were both wet. Jace wiped his tears away hastily, letting out a long, slow breath. "I love you," he said softly.

"I love you, too," she said, smiling gently.

He let out another shaky breath, visibly trying to pull himself together. He glanced behind her. "What's this doing here?" he asked, reaching for the Pyxis.

"Don't!" Clary cried, throwing herself in front of it. Jace recoiled, startled.

"What?" he said, staring at her as if she'd gone insane.

"Don't touch it," Clary gasped.

"Why not?"

Clary swallowed hard. "It...did something to me. It gave me visions. I saw you, bleeding. And it...it made me think I was going to lose the baby."

Jace's eyebrows drew together in concern. He slipped his jacket off, wrapping it carefully around the Pyxis, and picked the box up, sliding it back onto the bookshelf. "We should get someone to look at it," he said, shrugging his jacket back on. "Magnus, maybe. A demon in a Pyxis shouldn't have much power, if any at all."

"It did," Clary whispered, staring at the box. "I don't know how, but it got inside my head. It felt so real...I thought...I really thought..." She slid her hand over her stomach, drawing in a trembling breath.

"Hey," said Jace softly, kneeling beside her. "You're okay." He laid his hand on top of hers. "Both of you."

Clary nodded shakily, and Jace pressed a kiss to her forehead before standing back up, swaying slightly. He winced, putting a hand to his temple.

"Your head," said Clary, pulling herself up. "Here, sit down. Let me have your stele." He obeyed, sinking back to the ground and handing his stele over. "What happened to you?" she murmured as she began to carefully trace an _iratze_ at the base of his neck.

"A surprisingly crafty vampire," said Jace irritably. "Or, I thought it was a vampire, but I think it must have been a demon wearing a glamour. I thought she needed help, but she managed to distract me and hit me over the head with a rock—ouch!"

Clary's hand had slipped; she had had a sudden flashback of her vision. Jace, dead from a head wound. "Sorry," she said hurriedly, finishing the _iratze_ with a hasty slash as she tried to steady her shaking hands. Jace's face relaxed as his wound began to heal. "What did it look like?"

"I didn't get a good look at it before it knocked me out, but I remember a rotting face." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Clary nodded. "It possessed a corpse, I think. And then it used your blood to get into the Institute. It was trying to get the Pyxis."

Jace chewed his lip. "Well," he said. "That's not good."

"No," Clary agreed. "I think we need to call a Conclave."

Jace shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "We need a better idea of what we're dealing with here. Otherwise we'll just end up scaring everyone and looking like we don't know what we're doing."

"But we _don't_ know what we're doing," said Clary with a playful smile.

"Yeah, but they don't need to know that," said Jace, rolling his eyes.

Clary bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well, if we need help figuring all this out," she said slowly, pulling herself to her feet, "I think I know just who to ask."

* * *

**A/N: I'm so grateful to everyone who has followed and faved this story in the last week! If you liked this chapter, I would really really appreciate it if you'd leave a review. Thanks to those who have for the last few chapters!**

**Next chapter's a juicy one, stay tuned :)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"I don't understand," said Tessa, leaning forward. "The demon was after the Pyxis?"

The four of them had gathered in the kitchen, hands wrapped around steaming mugs of tea. The Pyxis sat on the table between them, seeming almost diminutive and harmless. Clary suppressed the urge to grab it and throw it out the window. She imagined she could still hear a faint whispering coming from inside it. Shivering, she took a long sip of tea and glanced back up at the two people sitting across from her and Jace: Tessa Gray and Jem Carstairs.

"Yes," said Jace. "We were hoping you could tell us why."

Jem frowned. "Okay. Start from the beginning."

Jace began to recount the story in great detail, though Clary noticed he left out the Pyxis's effect on her. Not that she was about to correct him; she wasn't sure she could stomach all the questions she'd be asked about it. She let her thoughts drift, fiddling with the string of her tea bag. The soft whispering in the back of her mind seemed to grow. She looked over at the Pyxis; was it just her imagination, or was it glowing faintly? The whisper grew louder, the words indistinguishable, a steady hiss echoing in her head...

"Clary?"

A hand landed on her arm; she jumped so violently that tea slopped over the lip of her mug. Jace stared at her.

"Are you okay?" he said in a low voice.

Clary nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. What did you say?"

She could feel his eyes on her, but all he said was, "Do you remember anything else about the demon? Anything it said or did?"

She shook her head. "It wanted the Pyxis. That's all I know."

"But it said it had a master?" said Jem, looking back over at Jace. Tessa's gaze lingered on Clary for a moment longer before she turned to Jace as well.

"Definitely," said Jace. "It said, 'My master sends his regards.'"

Tessa's brow furrowed. "So, a male, then."

"Or someone who looks like a male," said Jem. "It could be an eidolon."

"An eidolon isn't smart enough to come up with a plan to steal a Pyxis by itself," Jace pointed out.

"Well, then, what do you think it was?" said Jem, not unkindly.

They continued to discuss, but Clary stopped listening. She let their voices fade into the background again, a quiet hum against her exhausted mind. The hissing inside her head grew. It was still unintelligible, but she could sense the demon roiling inside the Pyxis, spitting like fire.

"Stop," said Tessa suddenly. "Stop talking." They all looked up at her. She was staring at the Pyxis, her eyes wide. "_Look._"

It hadn't been Clary's imagination; the box _was_ glowing, radiating a reddish-orange light. Clary drew in a shaking breath, her heartbeat quickening. Jace glanced over at her, his eyebrows drawing together, but before he could say anything, Tessa reached out and laid a hand on the Pyxis.

Instantly, the box blazed, with a sound like a bonfire erupting into being, and they all recoiled, shielding their eyes. Tessa cried out, snatching her hand back as the box glowed with a fiery, hellish light. The demon's laugh exploded in Clary's mind, loud enough to make her clutch her head in pain, gasping.

"Clary?"

Jace's voice echoed distantly, but it was drowned out by the booming voice in her head:

_I WILL DESTROY YOU, CLARISSA FAIRCHILD._

The voice faded; Clary's eyes streamed as she pulled her gaze up to the others. Jace was watching her, his eyes wide. She nodded at him—_I'm okay_—before looking over at Tessa. She cradled her right hand in her left, her face a mask of pain. Jem, his hands on her shoulders, stared down at her hand in horror. It was blistering, blood bubbling in the wound, and the stench of burnt flesh spread through the air.

Clary's stomach lurched; she shoved her chair back, bolting out of the room and down the hallway. She made it to the bathroom just in time to throw herself in front of the toilet and vomit. Bile scalded her throat as she coughed up what remained of her dinner.

The nausea came in waves, and she sat in front of the toilet for several minutes, dry heaving. Eventually, the nausea subsided and she let out a soft moan, leaning back against the wall, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"Are you all right?"

Clary jumped, eyes flying open. Tessa stood in the doorway, looking down at her in some concern.

"I'm fine," said Clary guardedly. "How's your hand?"

"It was nothing magic couldn't fix," said Tessa breezily, going over to the sink and dampening a washcloth. She wrung out the excess water and knelt beside Clary, offering her the washcloth.

"Thanks," Clary said, taking it and wiping her mouth with it.

There was a long pause before Tessa said quietly, "You're pregnant."

Clary looked up quickly; Tessa was regarding her with a knowing smile. "How did you guess?" said Clary, surprised.

"I was the same with both my pregnancies," said Tessa, smiling fondly at the memory. Clary wondered briefly how someone could smile fondly at the memory of puking a thousand times, before she remembered with a lurch that both of Tessa's children were dead. She supposed Tessa would want to cherish every memory she had of her children. "Well, less so with James," Tessa went on. "More with Lucie. They say if you have a lot of morning sickness, it means you're having a girl."

Clary shook her head, smiling shyly. "I have a feeling it's a boy."

Tessa held out a hand, and Clary slid her own into it, letting the other woman pull her to her feet. Then, much to Clary's surprise, Tessa hugged her. "Congratulations," she whispered, and Clary smiled.

After a moment, Tessa pulled away, beaming. "Well, we should get back. The boys will be waiting for us."

"You go on," said Clary. "I just need to rinse out my mouth." Tessa nodded, slipping through the door. Clary could hear her footsteps echoing as she went back down the hallway. Letting out a long breath, Clary turned towards the sink and reached for the tap handles.

_Clary..._

She froze, her heart skittering in her chest. _It's your imagination,_ she told herself. _You're just jumpy._

_Clary..._

"Stop it," she said aloud, squeezing her eyes shut. The hissing voice dissipated, and she opened her eyes again, staring at her reflection. She took another steadying breath, and then leaned over the sink to rinse out her mouth.

* * *

Jace glanced up, breaking off midsentence, as Clary returned to the kitchen. His eyes searched hers, inquisitive. She smiled tiredly at him, and he seemed to relax marginally. She slid back into her chair, slipping a hand into Jace's as she rested her head on his shoulder. The Pyxis, she noticed, had been moved across the kitchen. "What did I miss?" she asked.

"We were talking about how the demon got into the Institute," said Jem. "Somehow, this 'master' knew a demon wouldn't be able to open the doors to the Institute, and even if it could, it would die the moment it stepped on hallowed ground. It has to be someone clever and powerful enough to think of possessing a corpse and then using a glamour to trick Jace."

"It couldn't be...you know...him?" Jace jerked his chin toward the Pyxis.

Tessa shook her head. "You trapped his corporeal form. He doesn't have access to his own realm to be able to send demons."

"Do you think it could be a warlock?" said Clary. "It was a warlock who raised the Prince of Hell in the first place, right?"

"But the demon killed him almost immediately," said Jace. "It's not likely anyone else would know it had even happened."

"I agree," Jem said. "I think it must have been another demon. A Greater Demon, most likely."

"The problem with that," Tessa interjected, "is that we have no idea what its intentions are. A warlock might want to harness its power for a spell, but there isn't enough known about the demon realms to really understand why a demon might be searching for a trapped Prince of Hell. And if someone is desperate enough to try to break into the Institute, there's no telling what they'll do to get this Pyxis."

"You're saying this could happen again?" said Jace. A note of fear had entered his voice, but if Clary had not known him extremely well, she would not have noticed it. She squeezed his hand under the table, and he squeezed tightly back.

"It's entirely possible," said Tessa quietly.

"Then we have to get rid of it," said Jace immediately. "Let's throw it into a fire or something and be done with it."

"I wish it were that easy," Jem said with a sigh. "Given what it did to Tessa, the Pyxis doesn't seem to be hampering the demon's powers much. Even if a fire could kill it—and that's a big 'if'—you'd likely blow up half of New York with it."

"Then is there a spell or something that can destroy the Pyxis?" Jace asked, his tone desperate.

"Not that I know of," Tessa said apologetically. "And if we tried and failed, the demon could absorb the spell's power and make itself stronger."

"Well, what, then?" Jace snapped. "There must be something we can do!"

"Jace," said Clary softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. He passed a hand over his eyes, and when he withdrew it he was calm again.

"Sorry," he said tightly. "I just—after what happened tonight, I don't want to take any chances."

"Of course you don't," said Tessa gently. "We understand." There was a brief moment of silence before Tessa spoke again, slowly. "While the demon is in the Pyxis, we cannot do anything to it. But if we released it from the Pyxis..."

"Absolutely not," said Jem immediately. "Releasing a Prince of Hell on purpose is a death wish."

"Well, we'd have to trap it somehow, obviously—"

"Magnus did trap it, earlier," said Jace. "He had it trapped in a circle of runes."

"Yes, but I don't imagine that would have lasted very long against a Prince of Hell," said Tessa. "We need something more powerful, something that will keep the demon contained long enough to banish him back to hell. And once the demon is gone, whoever is after it will have no cause to keep attacking the Institute."

"There might be something in the library," said Jace, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up. "If we start looking now, we might have an answer within a week—"

"No," said Tessa firmly. Jace stared at her. "The two of you have been through a dreadful ordeal tonight," she said in a gentler tone. "You need sleep. Especially Clary," she added, her eyes twinkling.

"What—" Jace glanced at Clary. "You told her?"

She smiled sheepishly. "She kind of figured it out."

"Am I missing something?" asked Jem in confusion, looking between them.

Clary hesitated, catching Jace's eye. He grinned, shrugging as if to say, _if you want to_. "I'm pregnant," Clary told Jem shyly.

"Oh!" His face lit up with surprise. "Well, congratulations to both of you."

"Thanks," said Clary. She smiled softly up at Jace, and he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Well, like I said, you both need rest," said Tessa, smiling at them. "We can get started on some research tomorrow. In the meantime, I can try to fortify the Institute. Another demon shouldn't be able to get in without more Shadowhunter blood, but we can't be too careful, I think."

"I can help," said Jem. "Magnus taught us how to set up wards. Corpse possession or not, no demon is getting through those doors again."

"Thank you both so much," said Clary softly. They both nodded at her.

"Of course, there remains the question of the Pyxis," said Jem, glancing over at it with a frown. "We could find a place to lock it away, perhaps—"

"I don't want to just leave it lying around," said Jace. "It needs to be guarded in case a demon does manage to get into the Institute again. We'll take it with us."

Clary's breath hitched in her throat, and she swallowed painfully. The whispering in the back of her head had picked up again, faint but ominous all the same.

"Jace, are you sure?" asked Tessa cautiously.

"Yes." He exhaled slowly. "This whole thing is my fault to begin with. I should have killed the demon when I had the chance. If I hadn't trapped it in the Pyxis instead, none of this would be happening. It's my fault, and I should take responsibility."

"Jace," said Clary nervously, but he cut her off.

"Please, Clary," he said softly. "I want to make up for this." Clary knew him well enough to know what he really meant: that he _needed_ to make up for it, to somehow atone for his wrongdoing. She also knew that nothing she said would convince him that he hadn't actually done any wrong.

"Okay," she said hesitantly. She read the silent thanks in his eyes before he crossed the kitchen, wrapped the Pyxis carefully in a dishtowel, and carried it back over to them.

"You're welcome to a room here, of course," Jace told Tessa and Jem.

"We'd appreciate that, thank you," said Tessa sincerely.

"There are a lot of spare rooms upstairs," Jace said. "We can show you to one, if you'd like."

"Don't worry about it. We'll find it ourselves," said Tessa, smiling. "Now go to sleep, both of you," she added in a chiding tone, shooing them out of the kitchen.

They headed back down the hallway towards the elevator in silence. After a moment, Clary felt Jace slide his hand into hers. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

_Clary..._

"I'm fine," she said, more sharply than she had intended. The whisper in her mind died away. "I just need sleep," she said in a softer voice.

They arrived at the end of the hallway, and Jace reached out with the hand holding the Pyxis to press the call button. Clary stared at the Pyxis, apprehensive; even now, she thought she could see it glowing under the dishtowel. The elevator descended with its usual thunderous clatter, and they rode it up in silence.

By the time they reached their room, all Clary wanted was to fall asleep. She changed into a tank top and pajama bottoms and dropped down on the bed, laying down with a sigh.

She heard the soft _thunk_ of Jace setting the Pyxis on the side table before the bed depressed beside her and he crawled under the covers, pressing himself against her back and drawing her close to him. His hand slid down to rest over her stomach, and, smiling slightly, she laid her own hand on top of his, drifting off to sleep.

* * *

_She was standing in a barren wasteland. The smell of sulfur stung her nostrils, and her lungs filled with hot, dry air that tasted of smoke. Around her, the world was red, dusty with loose, rust-colored gravel. In the distance, she saw the flickering of a blazing fire._

_"Hello, Clarissa."_

_She spun around and immediately stumbled away from the creature before her. He was vaguely humanoid, fifteen feet tall, with skin the color of blood. His scarlet eyes glinted. Somehow, Clary knew his name._

_"Beelzebub," she breathed. Her heart began to pound very fast._

_The demon grinned at her, showing rows and rows of pointed teeth. "How lovely to finally see your face," he said in a rasping voice that seemed to echo inside her head. "I must say, the inside of your mind was _dreadfully_ dull. Though, of course, we are still inside your mind." _

_He swung an enormous arm through the rock formation beside him. Clary threw her arms up over her head, expecting rocks to rain down on her, but the formation simply disintegrated into mist, blowing away on the hot wind._

_She let her arms fall back to her side. The demon leered at her. "What do you want from me?" she snapped._

_"I?" He chuckled, the sound like grating metal. "I want you to suffer, of course. I want you to know how much power I have."_

_Clary swallowed. "Why?"_

_"Because your idiot husband trapped me," Beelzebub snarled. "Truthfully, I'd rather torture him, but you Nephilim have a nasty habit of protecting yourselves. I cannot touch _his_ mind. But _you_..." He grinned at her. "You have a weak spot. An Achilles heel, of sorts—that little thing growing inside your belly."_

_Clary drew in a sharp breath, her arms wrapping across her stomach as she shrank away from the demon. "Don't touch him."_

_"Oh, I won't," said the demon with a smirk. "As long as you carry that child, your mind is open to me. And I intend to destroy every part of it." He chuckled. "What will your dear Jace do as you slowly go mad? He'll blame himself, of course. I won't even have to torture him—he'll do it to himself, hating his own existence for causing your doom." He exhaled delightedly. "That's the problem with you mortals. You all carry your weaknesses right...here." _

_He stretched out a long forefinger, pressing it to Clary's chest, just over her heart. She cried out, collapsing to her hands and knees as the demon's finger seared her chest, like a white-hot poker burrowing into her flesh._

_Beelzebub grinned, and all around her demons seemed to materialize out of the shadows, prowling towards her, enclosing the two of them, and she heard her name whispered on the wind over and over as pain flared in her mind and Beelzebub began to laugh..._

_...Clary..._

"Clary—"

_...Clary..._

"Clary—_Clary_!"

Her own scream pierced her ears. Beelzebub's laugh pounded through her mind incessantly; it felt as if her head were being cleaved in two.

Someone was shaking her, shouting something, but her own shrieks drowned it out. Pain blazed in her head like an inferno, and she curled in on herself as she clawed at her head, the demon's laugh like needles inside her skull.

Distantly, she heard the door crash open; voices mingled above her. Through her screams, she heard someone shout, "Take the Pyxis!"

There was a scraping sound, then receding footsteps. Her head throbbed, but the pain was beginning to lessen, the demon's laughter subsiding. A sob wracked her body as she curled further into herself, her nails digging into her arms.

"Clary..."

Someone stroked her hair, pressed a kiss to her forehead. She gasped for breath, shaking uncontrollably.

"Shh...it's okay...it's over..."

Her head pounded, and she whimpered, but the pain slowly ebbed away. She lay there for a long moment, breathing raggedly. Then, shuddering, she peeled her eyes open. Jace's face was an inch from hers, pale with terror. His golden eyes were wide, staring at her. "Clary..."

"I'm okay," she whispered. Her throat felt raw and scratchy, and her chest stung horribly where the demon had touched it. She took in a trembling breath and slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. Her limbs shook violently, and she drew in another long breath. "I'm okay," she said with more conviction.

Something flickered in her peripheral vision, and she glanced up; Tessa was standing in the doorway, her hand half-covering her mouth. "Your chest..." she whispered.

Jace sucked in a breath, brushing aside the strap of Clary's tank top. Clary looked down and was unsurprised to see the imprint of a finger, three times the size of a human fingertip, scorched into her skin, just over her heart. The edge of it encroached on her marriage rune, though she was relieved to see that it was still intact. The burn pulsed, glowing as if it still contained the embers that had created it.

"What the hell..." Jace breathed. He brushed dry blood away from the wound, his fingers shaking almost imperceptibly. "How did this happen?"

"It's nothing," said Clary quickly, pulling her tank strap back onto her shoulder. "I'm okay, Jace, really—"

"You're _not okay,_" said Jace vehemently. "_Nothing_ about this is okay." His eyes dropped down to the still-glowing burn.

Clary put her hand against his cheek. After a moment, he covered her hand with his, bringing his eyes back up to her own. "I," she said very clearly, "am _fine_."

"You're hurt," Jace whispered. "He hurt you."

"Well, luckily we have healing runes," said Clary, smiling softly. Jace didn't return the smile, but he seemed slightly calmer. He reached past her to open the drawer of the nightstand, taking out a stele. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to carefully ink an _iratze_ next to the burn. Clary glanced up; Tessa was still hovering in the doorway. "You can come sit down, you know. Plenty of room."

After a moment's hesitation, she crossed the room and sat down on the other side of Clary. "Are you sure you're—"

"I'm _fine._"

"How are you this calm?" Jace demanded as he finished the _iratze_.

"Well, one of us has to be," Clary said. She heard a soft noise and looked up to find Jem in the doorway.

"I put the Pyxis in a closet in the east wing," he said. His eyes fell on Clary's burn. "By the Angel..."

"Don't worry," said Clary dismissively. "This is just a glorified sunburn."

"Er—" Jem looked at Tessa for help, but she just shrugged. Jace's lip quirked up at the corner. "Well, it looks like it could use an _iratze_," said Jem.

"I already—" Jace broke off, his brow furrowing. "What the..."

Clary looked down at her chest. The _iratze_ had faded to a pearly white—but the burn was still there, looking just as new. Jace caught up the stele and drew another _iratze_, closer to the burn this time. For a moment it shone blackly on Clary's skin—and then it faded, dissolving like mist.

Swearing, Jace slashed another _iratze_ with such force that Clary had to suppress a gasp of pain. Again, the rune sank in and vanished like it had never existed.

"Jace, stop," said Clary, grabbing his hand as he made to draw the _iratze_ again. She tried to pry the stele out of his hand, but he was clutching it like a lifeline. "Jace," she said again, softly.

"Why isn't it _working_?" Jace snapped, flinging the stele away. It hit the opposite wall and shattered, falling to the floor in pieces. Clary took Jace's shaking hands in hers and squeezed them tightly.

"This is a powerful demon we're dealing with," said Jem. "It has magic we don't know of. Magic that seems to be blocking the effect of runes."

"How?" Jace demanded. "How did—how did any of this happen? Why does the demon keep affecting her like this? Why isn't the Pyxis drawing away its power?"

"I—" Jem paused. "What do you mean, _keep_ affecting her like this?"

Jace met Clary's eyes, swallowing visibly. She stroked her thumbs across the backs of his hands.

"It's okay," said Clary softly. She turned to Jem and Tessa. Her heart had begun to flutter nervously, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. "Earlier, when I was fighting the demon, I grabbed the Pyxis to protect it. And he got into my head, somehow. He...he made me think I was having a miscarriage." Her breath hitched as the memory gripped her, but she swallowed hard, pushing it away. _Not yet,_ she thought, glancing at Jace.

Tessa let out a quiet, "Oh," her eyes softening.

"And I touched it too, just a little while before that," said Jace. "But nothing like that happened to me. I felt a little like I was in a trance, but I wasn't hurt like Clary was. So clearly the demon is affecting her differently than the rest of us, but I don't know _why_." He looked at Jem, whose brow was furrowed. "Do you?"

"I couldn't say for certain," said Jem softly. "But I might have some idea. I've seen this before, albeit to a lesser extent." He sat down on the edge of the bed beside Tessa. She slid her hand into his. "Shadowhunters undergo the protection ceremony when they're born," Jem said, "but before that, they have no protection from demonic influence. What tends to happen is that the mother confers some of her protection to her unborn baby, leaving her own mind vulnerable to demons."

"You're saying this is because of the baby," said Jace. Clary glanced at him, trying to read his face, but it remained impassive.

"Yes and no," said Jem quietly. "It's because of the baby that the demon is able to access Clary's mind, but it's _why_ he wants access that's bothering me. That, and what he has to gain from it." He turned to Clary. "I need you to tell me exactly what just happened. Everything you can remember."

Clary felt her breath hitch. Jace studied her; he was probably the only one who could see the fear behind her façade of nonchalance, just as she was the only one who could ever see the insecurities he often hid behind sarcasm. "You don't have to do this right now," he said. "Not if you don't want to."

"I'm sorry, but she does," said Jem gently. "We can't risk her forgetting anything. Any little detail could be important."

Jace looked back at Clary, and she nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, she recounted her dream, telling them about the red landscape and everything she could remember about the demon's appearance—and then she stopped abruptly.

"Clary, what did the demon say?" asked Tessa gently.

"I..." She glanced at Jace again. The demon's words echoed through her mind. _He'll blame himself, of course. _"He didn't say anything. He touched me—here—" She laid a hand over her heart. "And then I woke up. That's all that happened."

Tessa surveyed her closely. "Clary, are you sure there wasn't anything else?" she asked carefully, but before Clary could say anything, Jace cut in.

"That's enough," he said sharply. "She doesn't need to relive it over and over again. What she needs is for that burn to be cleaned and bandaged, and then she needs to rest." He stood up and pressed a kiss to Clary's forehead. "I'll be back in a minute," he said softly. He slid his hands out of hers and left the room.

Jem looked at Clary carefully. "Clary," he said tentatively, "I don't want to cause you any more pain. But if there's anything you're leaving out at all..."

Clary hesitated. The knowledge inside her burned as painfully as the burn on her chest. _He'll blame himself...he'll blame himself..._

_No one can know._

"I told you everything I remember," said Clary. "I just..." She swallowed hard and gave a smile that she hoped looked more real than it felt. "I think I want to go back to sleep. Pregnancy's got nothing on surprise demon attacks."

"Are you sure you're—"

"I'm great," said Clary. "Seriously, don't worry."

"We'll stay with you until Jace gets back," Tessa said.

"There's no need," Clary said. She felt like she was about to break open, but she kept the smile on her face. "I'll be okay. Go back to sleep, seriously."

Tessa and Jem exchanged a glance, but said nothing else as they got up.

The moment they had left the room, closing the door behind them, Clary crumpled in on herself. Her whole body shook with silent sobs. The pain she had been trying to ignore overcame her, and she felt it all at once as if it had been dropped onto her shoulders. It wasn't just the burn on her chest—her heart and mind ached with the knowledge that she was being used as a weapon against Jace.

Her only consolation was that she _could_ protect him. Jace couldn't blame himself unless he knew that the only reason the demon was attacking Clary was because Jace loved her.

_To love is to destroy._

Fire surged through Clary's veins. The demon wanted to destroy Jace through his love for her—to hell if she was going to let it.

She would not let Jace put his walls back up. Not when she had spent so long knocking them down.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and Clary hastily wiped her tears away, composing herself. Jace reentered the room, carrying a tray stacked with supplies from the infirmary. "Where did Tessa and Jem go?" he asked.

"I told them to go back to bed," said Clary, keeping her voice light with a great deal of effort as Jace sat down beside her and set the tray down on the bedside table. He dipped a towel into a bowl of water and began to clean the burn. "I figured this whole nurse thing was going to get incredibly sexy, and that might be awkward for them. I mean, they were born in the Victorian era."

"Well, if you didn't want them to know we've had some sexy times, you probably shouldn't have told them you're pregnant," said Jace, sounding much more like himself as he grinned at her.

"It's one thing for them to _know_ we've had sexy times," said Clary. "It's another to witness them."

"And exactly what kind of sexy times did you think we'd be having?" Jace asked, arching an eyebrow.

"This kind," said Clary, leaning in to kiss him. His hands stopped in their ministrations, dropping the towel into her lap, and she felt his lips part under hers. She smiled against his mouth. "This is very sexy," she murmured.

"Clary..." Jace pulled away, his gold irises nearly eclipsed by his pupils. "Stop making jokes for a second." His eyes searched hers. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She brushed her lips against his. "I love you," she said.

"I love—"

"But if you ask me that again," she continued, cutting him off, "I will kill you."

He gave a small smile, picking the towel back up. "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! Thanks so much for reading :)**

**~4L**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter contains discussion of abortion. Reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

The sound of rasping curtains woke Clary the next morning. Sunlight lit up the inside of her eyelids, and she slowly peeled them open, blinking groggily. A shadow stood at the window, and as she stirred, it turned towards her, and she saw that it was Jace.

"Good morning," he said, smiling softly.

She sat up slowly, her mind foggy. "Time is it?" she mumbled.

"Nearly ten," said Jace. "I didn't want to wake you up, but it's getting late and you haven't eaten anything in a while." He came over to the bed and sat lightly on the edge. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Tired," Clary murmured. She chanced a stretch and regretted it immediately as the bruises on her body protested and the burn on her chest flared with pain. "And sore," she added, wincing.

Jace reached out and touched the edge of her bandage. "Can I take a look?"

She nodded, pulling her hair behind her shoulder and sliding the strap of her tank top down so he could have a better view. Carefully, he began to peel away the gauze and tape that covered the left side of her chest. She winced as he pulled the bandage off, exposing the burn.

"Sorry," he said, grimacing sympathetically. He set the soiled bandage on the nightstand and picked up the tray from the previous night, balancing it across his lap. "Does it feel any better?"

"A little," she said, though the wound was still smarting. Jace dipped a towel in cool water and began to clean the burn. It was no longer glowing with hellish fire; it looked more or less like an ordinary burn, blistering in the shape of a fingerprint.

"It looks better," he said, wringing out the towel. "It'll probably heal normally. You might have a pretty bad scar, though."

"I have plenty of those," said Clary, grinning. "Can't say I've ever had one caused by a Prince of Hell's burning finger, though. Hey, maybe I should draw something around it. I always wanted a tattoo."

"You _have_ tattoos," said Jace, chuckling as he applied a rather pungent ointment to the burn. Clary wrinkled her nose, though Jace seemed unbothered. "Besides, a burn doesn't look anything like a tattoo. It looks like a burn."

"You're no fun," said Clary in a scolding tone. "Normal tattoos are _boring_. Marks are pretty cool, admittedly, but still—a _demon burn_ tattoo? Isn't that the most badass thing you've ever heard of?"

Jace shook his head in disbelief, though he was grinning. "You're nuts," he said, kissing her on the nose.

Clary smiled slyly. "If I recall correctly, I'm not the one who once tried to convince a band of drunk vampires that I was their 'scrumptiously attractive leader.'"

Jace slapped a hand over her mouth. "You swore you'd never speak of it!"

Clary grinned. "Whatever you say, _Lord Smolder-mort_," she said, her voice muffled through his hand.

"Hey, it would've worked if the actual leader hadn't shown up halfway through," said Jace defensively, withdrawing his hand to grab a roll of gauze.

"Mm-hmm," said Clary, leaning back. "_Suuuuuure_."

Jace harrumphed, taping a fresh layer of gauze over the wound. "There," he said, smoothing it down. "All done."

"Thanks," said Clary, pulling her tank top strap back onto her shoulder. "I feel better already. Must be your magic touch." She leaned in, pressing a swift kiss to his lips. He lingered for a moment before withdrawing, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

"Do you need a _mendelin_?" he said as he stacked the medical supplies back onto the tray.

Clary shrugged. "If you think it'll work."

"I don't," Jace sighed, setting the tray down and picking up his stele. "But it's worth a shot, right?" He reached over, carefully tracing the rune just above the bandages. Clary waited for the familiar sting, but it didn't come; Jace might as well have been inking the rune with a pen.

"Better?" he asked, pocketing the stele.

The burn still prickled painfully, even as the _mendelin_ sank in. "Much," she lied, smiling as she intertwined her fingers with his. She took a moment to really look at him; though his voice was light and he was clearly making an effort to seem normal, he looked awful, now that she stopped to notice it. He clearly hadn't slept well; there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was unkempt as if he had tossed and turned all night, and his face was pale and grayish. "Hey. Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Me?" said Jace, looking surprised. "I'm fine. I'm not the one who got attacked by a demon last night."

"Actually, you are," said Clary, reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead. "Or did that demon knock you out hard enough to make you lose your memory?"

"You know what I mean," said Jace quietly.

Clary watched him closely, though he was avoiding her gaze. "Jace, what's going on?"

He looked at her, and she was startled to see that his eyes were brimming with tears. Wordlessly, she pulled him in against her, and he crumpled, burying his face in her shoulder. His body shook, and she held him, stroking his hair.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Clary," he whispered.

Her stomach swooped. "What are you sorry about?" she said, making an effort to keep her voice neutral.

He pulled away from her. His eyes were red. "I should be the one comforting you. I can't imagine how terrifying last night must have been for you."

"I'm fine," said Clary gently, her heart relaxing. _He doesn't know. Thank the Angel._ "And we'll comfort each other. It's what we do. It's what we've always done." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. "We'll get through this together."

"How?" said Jace bleakly. "How do we even begin to handle something like this?"

"One step at a time," said Clary. "And we can't do it alone. The first thing we need to do is hold a meeting. We'll call everyone we know who can help. My parents, Maryse, Simon, Izzy, Alec, Magnus, and Tessa and Jem, of course. They can branch out and try to find solutions. We'll look through the library for anything that could help us trap and kill a Prince of Hell. Once we find an answer, we'll take it from there." She kissed his cheek. "Sound like a plan?"

He gave a watery smile. "When did you get so wise?"

"Well, it was probably after I married you," she said, a smile playing on her lips.

"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Did I really make you that wise?"

"Definitely not," said Clary. "If I'd been wiser before, I wouldn't have done it."

Jace laughed. "Now you're just hurting my pride," he said.

"You could stand to lose some," said Clary. She kissed him again, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent. She didn't think it would ever get less intoxicating.

Finally, Jace pulled away. Clary pouted, and he rolled his eyes. "You'll live without my sexual gifts for a little longer," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Ah, there's that pride," Clary teased, sliding out of bed. Her stomach lurched suddenly. "Oh, crap—"

She bolted for the bathroom, barely making it in front of the toilet in time to throw up. There were footsteps behind her, and then hands pulled her hair up and out of her face. She tried to say _thank you,_ but a squelching cough came out instead.

"Gross," Jace complained. She punched him, and he yelped. "Not gross!" he amended. "Gorgeous and beautiful and—and—"

"Carrying _your child_, you ass," Clary managed to gasp before another wave of nausea overtook her.

"And that," said Jace meekly.

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, Clary's nausea had eased to the point where she could get up without needing to throw herself back in front of the toilet. This, Jace pointed out, was progress. Clary seemed unamused.

"Call it progress when the toilet isn't the first thing I greet in the morning," she said irritably, moving to the sink to rinse out her mouth. "You should go," she added, turning the tap and cupping her hands to fill them with water.

"What?"

She took a moment to swish the water in her mouth before spitting it out and saying, "I need some time to clean up and get dressed. You should start calling everyone." She sighed. "I want to get this over with."

Jace gave a soft smile. "Hey. It'll be okay."

"I know," said Clary, turning so she could rest her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'll see you downstairs," he said, and she nodded.

He left the bathroom and headed for the elevator. He slowed to a stop in front of it, pushing the call button. There was a thunderous crash from below as it began to ascend.

Jace leaned against the cool stone wall, exhaling slowly. His heart felt tight; hard as he might try to make easy banter with Clary, worry was roiling in him, corrosive in his veins. He felt as if he were being stretched in several directions. Part of him struggled with the idea that they didn't stand a chance against a Prince of Hell, even one trapped in a Pyxis. Another part panicked over the fact that someone was trying to steal the Pyxis and would do anything to get to it. And yet another part of him ached for Clary, for the pain that she was in, for the fact that if she hadn't been pregnant, none of this would be happening.

The elevator clattered to a stop in front of him. Jace pushed open the golden grilles automatically and stepped inside, mind still churning. The elevator descended with its usual heart-stopping lurch and, after a moment, let him out on the ground floor. He followed the hallway down to the kitchen, from where voices were emanating. As he entered the kitchen, Jem and Tessa looked up. Steam rose from the mugs of tea in front of them.

"Clary's awake," said Jace without preamble.

"Is she doing okay?" said Tessa, her gray eyes soft.

"She's...she's all right," said Jace, sighing. "But we need your help. We have a lot of calls to make."

* * *

It took another half-hour for all the calls and arrangements to be made. Jace, Tessa, and Jem spent several more minutes cleaning up the library, which had been decimated by the demon's fight with Clary. By the time Clary came down, having washed and dressed, the library was in proper order again, with all signs of the battle gone (mostly courtesy of Tessa) and chairs set up at a long table.

"Everything's good to go," said Jace as Clary came into the library.

"You called everyone?" said Clary.

Jace clapped a hand to his forehead. "I knew I was forgetting _something._..."

Clary swatted him, grinning. "You're an idiot," she told him.

"Well, you're stuck with this idiot," said Jace, kissing her cheek. "Did you eat anything?"

She shook her head. "I'm still feeling pretty nauseous. This baby better be damn cute," she griped.

He laughed. "Well, you have to eat something. Juice and crackers?"

"Juice and crackers," she agreed, sighing.

Jace reached over and laid a hand over her stomach. Smiling, she intertwined her fingers with his. "I'll be back in a few," said Jace, kissing her before pulling away and leaving the library.

When he returned ten minutes later, bearing a glass of apple juice and a small plate stacked with saltines, the library was filled with people and alive with chatter. Jocelyn and Luke were talking to Tessa and Jem; Jocelyn looked pale, her fingers tightly woven with Luke's. Alec and Magnus were situating their children in a corner with a multitude of toys and books. Max was already playing with a train set that puffed out blue smoke, while Rafael was sitting with his back to a bookshelf, a thick book spread open across his knees. Simon had taken advantage of the snacks in the middle of the table; Isabelle was scolding him for eating at a time like this.

In the center of the room, Maryse appeared to be arguing with Clary over something. As Jace approached, Clary gave him a glance that clearly read, _help me out here!_

"—why you haven't convened a full Conclave instead," Maryse was saying, her arms folded across her chest. "As the heads of the Institute, this going behind the Clave's back _cannot_ happen anymore. I thought you'd have learned that by now."

"It's not Clary's fault, Maryse," said Jace, coming over to stand by Clary. "We have our reasons for not telling the Clave what's going on, but rest assured we will tell them when the time is right."

She turned toward him, opening her mouth to inevitably argue, but paused, her gaze landing on the plate of saltines. "Who are those for?" she demanded.

"Clary. Why?" said Jace, noticing the tiny shake of Clary's head a moment too late. "Uh—I mean..."

Maryse whirled on Clary, who actually took a step back in alarm. "You're pregnant!" she announced.

Clary shot Jace a panicked glance. He shrugged, completely nonplussed.

"Um," said Clary awkwardly. "Yeah. I am."

Maryse let out a piercing shriek. Jace and Clary both jumped, crackers and juice flying everywhere.

"Oh!" she squealed, yanking Clary into a hug. Clary squeaked in surprise. "That's wonderful! Oh, you must be so happy! I can't believe this, I'm going to be a grandmother again!" She squealed again, and Clary winced. Jace let out a snicker behind Maryse's back, regretting it instantly as Clary stamped on his toes.

"Maryse, I think you're suffocating Clary," he said hastily, setting down what remained of the juice and crackers before untangling her arms from around Clary's neck, pulling her away.

"Sorry, sorry," said Maryse, wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm just—I'm so thrilled for you both!" She rounded on Clary. "How are you feeling? You've been taking care of yourself, haven't you? Do you need to sit down? Have you seen a Silent Brother yet?"

Clary looked rather flabbergasted, but before she could say anything, Alec and Magnus came over, no doubt to see what all the fuss was about. Maryse whirled around.

"Did you hear?" she cried. "Clary and Jace are having a baby!"

"Really?" said Magnus, feigning shock. "And here I thought she was just getting fat."

"_Magnus_!" said Clary, sounding outraged.

"I'm _joking_, biscuit," said Magnus, ruffling her hair. "You're as beautiful as ever."

Alec sidled up to Jace. "I see you told Mom the news," he said. He leaned in close and whispered in Jace's ear, "Beware of the Mama Bear. She'll never let Clary out of her sight now."

Jace glanced over at Maryse, who was still fussing over Clary. "Okay!" he said, pulling Maryse away before she could force Clary to lie down on the sofa. "We need to get started."

Maryse went over to the table rather reluctantly, followed by Alec. Magnus lingered to kiss Max and Rafe on the tops of their heads before moving to the table as well. Clary, Jace noticed, looked at the children fondly, her gaze softening. Jace couldn't keep himself from imagining a little green-eyed, redheaded boy crawling around the library, or perhaps sitting on his lap, pointing at pictures in a storybook. He smiled and leaned over to kiss Clary on the cheek before striding over to the table.

"Okay," he said, striding over to the table and drawing up a chair. Clary followed, popping a saltine into her mouth with a satisfying _crunch_ before sitting down beside him. "I'll cut to the chase. There was a demon attack on the Institute last night."

An exclamation went up around the table, but Jace held up his hands. "Let me finish," he said quickly. "It's a long story."

He began to explain the events of the previous night. For nearly a quarter of an hour, he spoke into the rapt silence, until at last he had told them everything. "We need your help," he said finally, his voice sounding hoarse and tired to his own ears. "We need to find a way to get rid of the demon in the Pyxis before whoever is looking for it can get it." _And before it ends up killing Clary_, he added mentally, before shoving the thought away.

No one spoke for a moment, staring on in shocked silence.

"_Jesus_," said Simon finally, staring at Jace and Clary. "Where do we even start?"

"Tessa had an idea..." said Jace, glancing at her.

She nodded, leaning forward, her hands clasped on the table. "What we need to find is a powerful enough trapping spell that will enable us to keep the demon contained until we can banish it."

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard," said Isabelle, looking at Magnus. "You must have something that could work, right?

He shook his head. "If it were that simple, I would have banished him as soon as he appeared in our apartment. To banish something as powerful as a Prince of Hell, we'd need to keep him trapped for several minutes longer than normal. And he'll be fighting back as hard as he can. I haven't heard of a single spell that's powerful enough."

"Just because you haven't heard of it, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist," said Simon determinedly. "We'll find it." He looked at Clary, giving her a reassuring smile. "We can do this."

There was a murmur of assent around the table.

"I can look through the archives of the Spiral Labyrinth," said Tessa.

"And if you convene the Conclave, they might be able to pool their knowledge and come up with something," Luke added.

"You can't tell the Clave," said Maryse sharply, startling them all into silence.

Jace looked at her, surprised. "Since when do you _not_ want to tell the Clave something?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Since Clary's pregnant," said Maryse.

Clary glanced at her. "What do you mean?" she said, her voice deceptively calm.

Maryse looked strangely sympathetic; it was not an expression Jace was accustomed to seeing on her face. "If the Clave got wind that a Prince of Hell has a direct pipeline to your mind, a pipeline that might pose a danger to all Shadowhunters—well, they would do anything to get rid of it. And in this case, that would mean...it would mean getting rid of the baby," she finished in a rush.

There was a shocked silence. Jace heard Clary's breath hitch. He reached over and took her hand, and she squeezed back tightly.

"Can they _do_ that?" said Simon, looking horrified.

"No one would force her," said Maryse grimly, "but if they could make it seem like it was dangerous enough to affect us all...well, Clary wouldn't have much of a choice."

"I didn't think Shadowhunters believed in abortions," Simon said.

"We don't," said Maryse shortly. "However, if the mother's health is threatened by a pregnancy, or in extenuating circumstances like these, there is a potion the Silent Brothers can make. So if Clary doesn't want to lose the baby—"

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," Jocelyn said. Heads swiveled to look at her. She flushed. "Well, we were all thinking it!" she said defensively. "And if it's the only way to protect her—"

"We were _not_ all thinking it, and it is _not _the only way!" Maryse snapped. "There are other options—we could move the Pyxis out of the Institute—"

"It's too risky," said Jem. "Someone's already broken into the Institute to try to steal it. If it got stolen in transit, there's no telling what sort of damage could be done."

"What about a Portal?" said Alec.

Jem shook his head. "I don't think we should be using any sort of magic around it," he said. "As far as we know, no one's ever trapped a Prince of Hell in a Pyxis before, and it doesn't seem to be drawing away his power. He's _gaining_ power, probably by absorbing the magic already around him."

"Well, fine," said Maryse impatiently, "but we can still look for a spell to trap it—"

"And how long would that take, Maryse?" said Jocelyn, folding her arms. "Weeks? Months? And in the meantime, that demon will keep attacking Clary's mind, over and over."

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this," Luke muttered, glancing at Clary, who had gone very still, but neither of them took any notice.

"So you would rather Clary kill her own child?" Maryse demanded. "Your _grandchild?"_

"She can have another baby," said Jocelyn firmly. "There's no telling what this demon wants from her or what it will do. She can't have the baby if she's _dead_, Maryse!"

"She can't have the baby if she kills it, either!" Maryse shouted.

"That's _enough!_" Jace snapped, slamming his hands on the table. They both fell silent. "Neither of you has any business talking about this," he said quietly. They had the good grace to look slightly ashamed, though anger was still written across their faces. Everyone else looked rather uncomfortable; most of them were looking at Clary. Jace glanced at her. She was staring down at her hands, her fingers knotted tightly together. He reached for her. "Clary—"

She pushed her chair back, stood up, and left the room without a word.

"Great," Jace spat, shoving his own chair back. "Well done, both of you." He strode out of the room, following Clary.

It took him a moment to find her; she was standing at the end of the hallway, arms wrapped tightly around herself. As Jace approached, he saw that her shoulders were shaking. Wordlessly, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. She curled in against him, letting out a soft sob.

He didn't know what to say. How could he say anything? He didn't have the slightest idea how she was feeling, what she was going through. All he could do was stroke her hair, kiss the top of her head, and wait for her to speak.

Eventually, she pulled away from him, mopping at her eyes. "I know it's stupid," she mumbled. "It's not even a baby yet. Not really."

"It's not stupid," said Jace gently.

She gave a shaky exhale, resting back against the wall. "My mom's right, isn't she?" she said in a resigned tone. "It's the best solution. It makes the most sense."

"Clary, don't listen to either of them," Jace said sharply. "They don't get to have an opinion about this. The only opinion that matters here is yours."

"And what about yours?" Clary said, meeting his gaze.

He gave a soft smile, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "I'll give it if you want it. But the choice is yours, Clary. And no one will force you to do anything you don't want to do."

She sighed. There was a weariness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "What do you want to do?" she asked.

He hesitated a moment before answering. "Honestly?" he said. "I...I want the baby, but I want you, too, Clary. I know it sounds awful, but I want you _more._ And if the demon...if he...if you..." He swallowed, blinking hard.

"Hey," she said softly, touching his cheek. "I'm not dying. I'm not going to. Not anytime soon."

"How can you know for sure?" Jace whispered.

"I just do," she said simply. "You don't have to worry about that, okay?"

"I always worry about you," he said softly.

"I know." Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, gently, tenderly. He closed his eyes, letting her lips siphon away his fear, drinking in hers, sharing the burden between them.

Finally, after a long moment, she pulled back, gazing into his eyes. "Are you okay, Jace?"

"Me?" said Jace, surprised. "Why?"

"I'm just checking in," she said. "It's not just me being affected by all this." She stroked his cheek. "You're doing okay?"

"I'm fine, Clary," said Jace gently. "It's not me we should be worrying about."

"I always worry about you," said Clary, smiling ruefully.

He chuckled, pressing his forehead to hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She reached out and took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. Then, slowly, she laid their interlocked hands on her stomach. "This is what I choose," she said softly. "I want this. And I'm willing to fight for it."

He searched her eyes. "You're sure?"

"Yes," she said, the word an exhale. "I can do this."

"Of course you can," said Jace, smiling. "You're Clary. You can do anything." He squeezed her hand, and she returned the smile.

"Okay," she said, letting out a long breath. "Let's go back in."

They made their way back down the hallway, hand in hand. As they entered the library, Jocelyn jumped to her feet.

"Clary," she said immediately, "I—"

"Don't apologize," said Clary softly. "I know you're just looking out for me."

Jocelyn looked relieved, sinking back into her chair. "Yes. Exactly."

Clary led Jace over to the table. They took their seats. "Here's what's going to happen," said Clary in a clear voice. "We're going to do everything we can to find that spell. I'm going to stay away from the Pyxis. And with any luck, he won't be able to touch me again. So is everyone all right with that?"

She stared around the table, a hard, defiant glimmer in her eyes. Jace felt a surge of love towards her; he had to wonder what he had done to deserve someone as incredibly strong as her.

"We're with you, Clary," said Simon finally.

The others gave murmurs of agreement; Jace saw Jocelyn meet Maryse's eyes across the table; the two women exchanged a nod.

"Okay," said Clary. "Good." She glanced over at Jace. He squeezed her hand, smiling. "Then let's get to work."

* * *

**A/N: I know abortion is a very controversial topic, but I hope I've approached it with the nuance it deserves. If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review. All I ask is that you be kind and respectful.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

They worked long and hard throughout the rest of the day and into the late hours of the night, leafing through volume after volume in the great library, making phone calls, and calling in favors. Tessa and Jem left after a few hours, intending to go back home and look through Jem's records from his time as a Silent Brother before Tessa left for the Spiral Labyrinth. Magnus and Alec left next, taking the children with them and promising to examine Magnus's collection of texts at home. Maryse went with them, claiming that she needed to spend more time with her grandchildren, much to Magnus's and Alec's chagrin. Simon, Isabelle, Clary, Jace, Jocelyn, and Luke continued to scour the books in the library, looking for any sort of spell that might be useful. Finally, long after the last tendrils of sunlight had evaporated and the moon had risen high and bright in the sky, Jace slammed his book shut, sending dust up in a thick cloud.

"This is useless," he snapped as everyone else coughed, waving dust away. Beside Simon, Izzy sneezed violently, groaned, and leaned over, laying her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. "We should have found something by now," said Jace, shoving the book across the table.

"It's only been a day," said Clary wearily, closing her own book and laying her head in her hands. Simon had noticed her rubbing her temples throughout the day, almost absentmindedly. He touched his _parabatai _rune; it hadn't given so much as a twinge of pain all day. "We just have to be patient. Something will turn up."

"We don't have time to just sit around leafing through all these books," said Jace, waving an arm at the towering shelves of the library. "Jocelyn's right. It could take weeks, or months."

"What am I right about?" said Jocelyn sleepily, lifting her head off the thick book she had been using as a pillow.

"Clearly, we all need a break," said Luke, regarding his wife with some amusement. "Maybe we should pick this up tomorrow."

"Of course," Clary said. Her voice was hoarse, but she gave a weak smile. "You should all go home," she added, looking around the table. "You've helped enough today."

"I'll stay," said Simon, even as his eyes burned with exhaustion. "I'm not that tired."

"You've been reading the same page for half an hour," Izzy pointed out, lifting her head off his shoulder and stretching widely.

"I was...studying it thoroughly!" Simon protested. Izzy gave him a look. "Okay, fine, but it's a _really_ boring book."

"If none of you are going to take this seriously, maybe you _should_ just go home!" Jace snapped, snatching Simon's book out of his hands and slamming it down in front of himself. Simon blinked, taken aback.

"Jace," said Clary softly, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off, standing up. "I need some air," he muttered, stalking out of the room.

There was a tense silence. Clary seemed to sag in her chair. "Sorry," she said, sighing. "He's just...stressed. I know you've all been doing the best you could. And I'm grateful you're even giving up your time to help."

"You don't need to be grateful," said Simon, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "It's a given. We're all here to help."

She smiled at him. "Well, I'm grateful regardless. But you should all head home. It's been a long day."

"I think I'll take you up on that, but only because I can hardly keep my eyes open," said Jocelyn, pushing her stack of books to the center of the table. "But I promise I'll be back tomorrow, bright and early."

"It's fine, Mom," said Clary. "We're doing all we can. There's no use in everyone getting burnt out in the first two days."

Jocelyn yawned and went over to Clary, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I know. We'll be back in the morning anyway."

"You should get some sleep, too," said Luke, hugging Clary goodbye. "You need to take care of your health."

"I know, I know," said Clary, waving a hand. "Maryse gave me the spiel already. I promise, your grandchild will be perfectly healthy."

Luke chuckled. "Love you. See you tomorrow."

"Love you, too," Clary said, smiling. "Get home safe." Her parents nodded and walked out hand in hand.

"I think I'll turn in, too," said Izzy, yawning. She pushed her chair back from the table. "Can we crash here tonight? I don't feel like taking the train to Brooklyn right now."

"Of course," said Clary. "You know where your room is."

Izzy nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes. Simon tilted his head up and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'll be up in a bit," he said.

"Mm-hmm," said Izzy, wandering out sleepily.

Simon sighed and pulled his book back towards him, flipping it open. "Aren't you tired?" Clary asked him.

"Exhausted," he admitted. He ran his fingers through his hair, shook his head to clear it, and flicked through a few pages. "But I want to help. I can stay up a little longer."

"Don't worry about it," said Clary, turning back to her own book with a sigh. "I think I can manage."

Simon glanced at her. She looked ill, her skin sapped of color. "How are you doing, Clary?" he asked, his tone gentle.

She looked up. She had the appearance of someone forcing themselves to keep it together. There was a shakiness in her smile. "I'm okay," she said. "I'm just..._tired._..." She blinked hard, her lip quivering—and then her face crumpled, her shoulders collapsing inward as she burst into tears.

"Oh...hey..." Simon stood up quickly and hurried around the table. Sitting down in Jace's abandoned chair, he wrapped an arm around Clary's shaking shoulders. "Hey," he said again, softly. "It's okay."

She turned towards him, burying her face in his shoulder. He stroked her back as she burrowed into him, muffling her sobs against him.

Eventually, the tears subsided. Clary let out a slow, shaky breath and pulled away from him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, mopping at her eyes. "I...I don't even know why I'm crying. Damn hormones..."

"Clary," said Simon gently. "You know I love you, but you have to cut the crap." She looked up at him, surprise flashing across her face. "What's really going on?"

"I..." She shook her head, sniffling. "Nothing. It's...it's nothing."

"It's not nothing," said Simon. He put a hand to his rune again. "Clary, please tell me. I—I haven't felt anything. All day."

She looked at him, her eyes following his fingers. "Oh," she said softly.

"Did I do something, Clary?" said Simon desperately. "Is that why I didn't feel it when you got burned last night?"

"Simon," Clary sighed, shaking her head. "You didn't do anything. I think...I think you didn't feel it because it happened in my mind." She sniffled again, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "It might manifest physically, but it's not happening in this world. It's happening inside my head. I think that's why the healing runes haven't been working, either."

Simon hesitated. "Okay," he said eventually, "but that means that if it happens again, I won't know about it. You have to tell me, Clary, because I won't know."

"There's nothing to tell," Clary said, visibly pulling herself back together as she turned back to her book.

"You're hiding something," said Simon quietly. She stared at her book. "I know you are. What I don't understand is why."

"It's..." Clary sighed and put her head in her hands. "It's complicated, okay?" she said, her voice sounding thick.

"I just want you to know that you can trust me," said Simon. "You probably have a good reason for whatever you're hiding, but you don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you. I'm—I'm the Luke to your Leia. I'm the Harry to your Hermione."

Clary cracked a small smile. "Really," she said dryly. "_You're_ Harry?"

"Yes, I am," said Simon with dignity. "We all know I'm the protagonist in this story."

Clary gave a watery chuckle. "You're such a dork," she said, bumping his shoulder with hers.

"You know it," said Simon, grinning. "Been that way for twenty-five years. I popped out of the womb wearing a Batman mask."

Her smile faded; she put a hand over her stomach, eyes shining.

"Clary..." said Simon softly.

She stood up abruptly. "I'm—I'm going to go find Jace," she said without looking at him. "Get some sleep, okay?" She left the room without waiting for an answer, rubbing aggressively at her eyes.

Simon sighed and closed his book. He leaned back in his chair wearily, fingers tracing the edge of his _parabatai _rune.

* * *

The hallway was silent. Moonlight cast an icy sheen against the stone walls, creating shadows in the hollow alcoves. The hall gave off an eerie vibe; Clary shivered as she walked down the corridor, her footsteps echoing off the walls.

Now that she was alone, she was all the more aware of the dull ache in her head; in fact, it was intensifying with every step. She rubbed her temples, massaging them so hard she thought she might leave bruises, but the headache only seemed to move to wherever her fingers weren't, and after a few moments she gave up, letting her hands drop to her side.

The wind shifted, blowing an icy draft through the open windows, and Clary shivered again. She picked up her pace, following the corridor to the entrance hall. She pushed open the doors and stepped outside. Jem and Tessa's new wards rippled around her, as if she were moving through a rushing waterfall.

Jace sat on the steps, arms around his knees. Moonlight shone off him, turning his hair silvery and illuminating the angles of his cheekbones. He looked so unlike himself, shoulders hunched as if he were trying to physically hold himself together. A pang for him went through Clary, her lip quivering again; she bit down on it hard before taking a deep breath and moving towards him.

He glanced up as she approached. "You shouldn't be out here," he said wearily. "It's not safe."

"You're out here," Clary pointed out as she lowered herself next to him.

"It's different," he said shortly, turning away from her.

"Why? Because you don't care if you get hurt?"

He didn't answer, just folded his arms more tightly around his legs. Clary sighed. "Jace, what's going on with you?" she said gently.

"Nothing."

She closed her eyes, taking a long, slow breath. When she opened them again, he was looking at her.

"Your lip is bleeding," he said almost absentmindedly, reaching out to wipe the blood away. His fingers were light on her lower lip. They lingered for a moment; his eyes searched hers; then he dropped his gaze, pulling away.

"Jace," said Clary, reaching for him. "Talk to me. Please." His hair was falling in his eyes; automatically, she brushed it away from his forehead. He closed his eyes at her touch. "What's wrong?"

He stared out at the gates, his gaze stony. "I just..." he began in a tight voice. "I just feel like this is my fault."

_He'll blame himself._

Clary swallowed hard. "And why is that?" she said carefully.

"I started this whole thing," said Jace. He dug his nails into his arms. "I trapped the demon. It's my fault he's in the Institute, attacking you."

"If you hadn't trapped him, Magnus would be dead right now," said Clary. She reached over and pulled his hands toward her, loosening his fingers' death grip on his arms. "You did what you had to do. You saved him."

"Maybe there was another way," Jace said, frustration tingeing his voice. "Maybe I acted too rashly, didn't think it through—"

"You couldn't have known this would happen!" said Clary desperately.

"But I should've done more!" Jace shouted, vaulting to his feet. "I should've figured out a plan instead of marching in half-assed, I should've tried harder to find another way! And maybe if I had, seven Shadowhunters wouldn't be dead right now and a Prince of Hell wouldn't be trying to kill you!"

"It's not your fault," said Clary helplessly. "You did all you could."

"Yeah?" said Jace savagely. "And am I doing all I can now? I can't even figure out a goddamn way to fix this, Clary. I can't..." He sank back down on the steps, cradling his head in his hands. "I can't do anything to make it right."

"You're doing everything you can," said Clary gently.

"It's not enough," Jace said, his voice hard.

"No," she said softly. "Nothing ever is for you." She slid her arm around his waist, pressing herself closer to him. He turned in towards her, resting his forehead against hers. "But I know you're doing your best, and that's good enough for me."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "It's all my fault," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, Clary."

Clary's heart skipped a beat. "Jace," she said sharply, pulling away from him. "It's not your fault. Do you hear me? You can't blame yourself."

He looked at her, seemingly taken aback at the intensity of her tone. "I..."

"Promise me," she said, squeezing his hand. "Promise me you won't blame yourself, no matter what happens."

"What do you mean?" said Jace, straightening to look her in the eye. "Clary, what's..."

"_Promise me_," she said. "Swear on the Angel, Jace."

His eyes searched hers. "Okay," he said uncertainly. "I swear."

She loosened her grasp on his hand. She felt suddenly sapped of energy, exhausted to the bone. Her head was pounding. "Let's go to bed," she said, getting to her feet.

"Clary," said Jace, standing up, too. "What aren't you telling me?"

She hesitated. "I—"

There was a soft _snap_ from behind her. Immediately, she whirled around, squinting into the darkness. She felt Jace come up behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Clary strained her ears; she could just make out a quiet _shushing_ noise, like something dragging itself across the grass.

"Demon," she said automatically, grabbing Jace's hand and pulling him quickly towards the doors. She shoved them open and pushed him inside, passing through Tessa and Jem's wards as they crossed the threshold. Clary threw the deadbolt and backed away from the doors, listening intently.

Something slammed against the doors, making the entire frame shudder. Clary leapt backward, yanking Jace with her. He pressed a finger to his lips, eyes wide, as he pulled her away from the door and into an alcove. Clary held her breath.

There was a skittering noise, like something scaly dragging against stone. The door shook again; there was an inhuman screech of pain, the sound of sizzling flesh—and then blinding white light blasted from under the doorframe.

Clary threw up a hand to block out the light; the air in front of her shimmered, the spell visible for a split second, pearly white and rippling in midair. Then, slowly, the light faded. The hall was silent.

"Well," said Jace, his voice slightly shaky. "At least we know the wards work." He stepped out of the alcove, moving towards the doors. "Wait here."

"Jace—" said Clary nervously.

"I'll be fine," he said, smiling reassuringly at her over his shoulder as he reached into the hidden niche by the door where they kept spare weapons and gear. He pulled out a sword. "Two minutes." He approached the doors cautiously, listening for a moment—then he pushed them open, disappearing outside.

She stepped forward, intending to press her ear to the door and listen for any sound of conflict, but before she had gotten within a foot of it, her head gave a sudden, nasty throb. She braced her hand against the wall as the hallway swung dizzyingly in front of her.

_Clary..._

Her whole body tensed. _It's not real,_ she thought, furiously trying to tamp down the hissing voice in her mind. _I'm nowhere near the Pyxis. I'm imagining things._

_Clary..._

There was a sharp, jabbing pain in her head, as if someone had shoved a white-hot poker into her brain. She gave an involuntary gasp, her knees buckling.

_CLARY_...

_No,_ she thought forcefully, even as black spots began to encroach on her vision. _You can't give in. The moment you pass out, you enter _his_ world, and he has all the power. You have to stay awake._

_CLARY..._

_Stay awake—_

_CLARY!_

_STAY AWAKE!_

Her legs gave out; she slid to the floor as the pain intensified, washing over her with tidal-force waves. She opened her mouth—to call out, or scream in pain, she wasn't sure which, but before she could find out, her head hit the ground and everything went black.

_Her eyes snapped open again as she drew in a rasping breath that tasted of sulfur and smoke. She was lying flat on her back on a rough, dusty ground, staring up at the flame-red sky._

_"Welcome back, Clarissa."_

_She scrambled to her feet. The world swung around her, and she staggered, trying to get her footing. Her head throbbed painfully. Her surroundings came into focus, and she saw that she was on a plateau that jutted hundreds of feet into the air, bordered on three sides by rock walls. Beelzebub lounged across from her, leaning against the cliff wall with a practiced insouciance. _

_Clary didn't wait for him to say anything else; she turned on her heel and ran._

_Beelzebub moved in a flash, blocking her path. She skidded to a halt, then tried to duck under his arm. He caught her forearm easily; her feet left the ground as he swung her to the side, flinging her against the wall of the cliff. She hit it hard, the breath leaving her in a rush. She struggled to rise, choking on the smoke._

_"So eager to leave," said Beelzebub, faking sorrow. "But I'm afraid we're just getting started, Clarissa." He leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath, hot against her cheek. "I am going to have so much fun with you tonight," he whispered, his eyes glittering hungrily._

_Gasping for breath, she told him to go do something she never would have said in front of her mother. Beelzebub tutted disapprovingly._

_"Still fighting?" he said, frowning at her. "We'll stamp that out of you, in due time." His head snapped suddenly to the side, as if he'd heard something. Clary strained her ears, hearing nothing. "Ah," he said, sounding disappointed. "But that'll have to wait, unfortunately. We're about to be interrupted."_

"Clary...?"

_A voice echoed down through the thick smoke cover over their heads. Beelzebub grinned. "Sweet dreams, my dear," he said, his voice enveloping her as the world dissolved._

"Clary!"

She snapped awake, her eyes flying open; she only got a glance of someone bending over her before her headache redoubled, and a moan escaped her as pain swept over her. She closed her eyes, riding out the ebbing waves, trying to ignore the remnants of the whispering voice in the back of her mind.

"Clary?"

She let out a shaking breath before opening her eyes. Simon's face hung over her, his eyes piercing hers.

"I'm fine," she said, struggling to sit up. Her voice shook slightly, but she swallowed hard, digging her nails into her hands, the physical pain grounding her. "I thought you went to bed," she said, forcing herself to sound normal.

"I was going to," said Simon shakily. He was very pale, still watching her intensely. "But I heard a noise—like a demon screeching. And then I came out here and you were on the ground."

"The noise _was_ a demon," said Clary, taking another long breath. She pushed herself to her feet, locking her knees to keep them from trembling. "Something tried to get into the Institute. Jace is outside looking for it."

"And, what, it attacked you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing like that. I—I passed out, I think. I haven't eaten much today."

He locked eyes with her. "Are you lying to me?"

"Simon," she said, hoping she sounded convincingly exasperated, "I know what you're thinking, but I swear I just fainted. That's all."

He held her gaze for a measured moment. "Okay," he said eventually, sounding doubtful.

"Hey." She squeezed his hand. "I'm fine. I promise. Just—just don't tell Jace, okay? He has enough to worry about right now besides me eating enough."

"Right," said Simon.

She kissed his cheek. "You should go to sleep. I'll wait for Jace."

"Clary." He caught her eye. "You'll tell me if anything happens tonight, right?"

Her heart was still pounding, but she plastered a smile on her face. "Of course," she lied. "But nothing's going to happen. The Pyxis isn't even anywhere near our bedroom. I'll be fine, Simon."

"Okay." He pulled away from her. "Good night, Clary."

She smiled again, a soft, genuine smile this time. "Good night."

He turned away from her, making his way down the corridor. As he turned the corner, vanishing out of sight, Clary pressed her shaking body against the wall. Beelzebub's voice echoed in her mind: _Sweet dreams, my dear_...

The door opened; she straightened hastily as Jace entered, sheathing his sword. "It was an Elapid," he said, tossing the sword back into the niche. "The wards killed it. Doesn't look like there's anything else out there." He paused, catching sight of her standing against the wall. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the alcove?"

"When do I ever listen to you?" she said, forcing a grin.

He grinned back. "I should've known better." He reached out, taking her hand. She let the familiar warmth steady her. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

* * *

She lay awake in the moonlit bedroom. Jace was pressed against her back; she could feel him breathing, could feel the steady beating of his heart in rhythm with hers. Her eyes burned, but she refused to let them close for more than a second. _Sweet dreams, my dear_...

She swallowed hard and turned over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The bed shook slightly, and Jace made a soft noise beside her.

"Clary?" he murmured. "You still awake?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

She felt his fingers on her jaw, turning her head gently toward him. His gold eyes were luminous in the moonlight. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said again. "I'm fine."

He sighed, then reached across her and flicked on the witchlight lamp. The room was bathed in the soft glow.

He propped himself on his elbow, looking down at her. "What's wrong?" he said, smoothing back her hair. The sensation was soothing; it made Clary want to close her eyes and drift off to sleep, but she forced herself to keep looking at him.

"Nothing," she said. "I just can't fall asleep."

"Aren't you tired?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"Well," said Jace, his lip quirking up at the corner, "I can think of a few ways to tire you out..."

Normally she would have rolled her eyes, making some quip about how this was all really just for his benefit, but she couldn't muster the energy to do so. Jace's smile faded as he searched her eyes. "Clary," he said softly. "Are you afraid you're going to have another nightmare?"

She didn't know how to answer that; instead, she turned her gaze back up toward the ceiling. Jace seemed to take her silence as answer enough. "I wish I could promise you it wouldn't happen," he said, stroking her hair. "And maybe it won't. Maybe the Pyxis is far enough away that he won't be able to reach you."

"Maybe," said Clary. Jem had said he had left the Pyxis in the East Wing. Perhaps the entrance hall had been too close to it. Perhaps she had put enough distance between them now. "You're probably right. I'll be fine."

Jace sighed, clearly not convinced. "If it happens," he said in a low voice, "I promise I'll wake you up. I know it's not much, but—"

"It's enough," said Clary, exhaling. She turned to look at him; his eyebrows were knit in worry. "It's enough to know you're here," she whispered, reaching up to lay a hand on his cheek.

His expression softened. "Always, Clary."

She tilted her head up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Will you hold me?"

He nodded. She reached up, turning off the lamp. Jace pulled her against him, tucking their bodies together, his lips brushing her neck. The warmth of his body was making her eyelids droop—she forced them open, staring hard at a spot on the wall. Her eyes stung from the effort.

Jace stroked his thumb lightly across her shoulder. "I'll watch over you," he murmured. "Sleep, Clary."

She couldn't deny how exhausted she was. Slowly, she relaxed into him, loosening her tense muscles. Her eyelids fell closed, and she slid softly into sleep.

* * *

Consciousness came to her slowly, as if she were swimming through honey. She felt the comfortable weight of Jace's arm slung carelessly across her body, heard the soft susurration of the blowing wind against the walls of the Institute, saw the moonlight dancing across her eyelids. Exhaling slowly, she opened her eyes.

It felt as if she were dreaming. Carefully, hardly willing to believe it, she rolled over to look at Jace, the bed rocking underneath her.

"Clary?" Jace mumbled, opening his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Clary whispered, reaching out to stroke his cheek. His skin felt rough under her fingers; she could see the miniscule cut on his chin where he must have nicked himself shaving that morning. She felt hypersensitive, aware of even the most minute details on his face.

"What happened?" said Jace, sounding more awake now as he stared at her through the darkness. "Did you have another nightmare?"

"No," said Clary. She found that she was smiling. "I didn't have one." Her voice broke with relief, and she felt tears spring to her eyes. "I didn't have one," she whispered again.

Jace smiled softly, curling a piece of her hair around his finger. "I'm glad." He leaned over and feathered a gentle kiss across her temple. "Go back to sleep."

"I wi..." Her voice faltered as he pulled back to look at her; he was smiling, stroking his finger lightly against her bare shoulder. Goosebumps erupted down the length of her arm, and she sat up slowly, studying him.

"What is it?" he said, his voice low, still rough from sleep.

"Nothing," she said. "I thought I saw..." _There_. Something shadowy flickered in his eyes as he sat up, his expression full of concern. "Jace?"

"What?" He reached for her, but she slid off the bed, her feet automatically planting in a fighting stance. "What are you doing?"

She had memorized every line on his face, every feature of his body, and his brow was furrowed and one side of his lip was crinkled the exact same way it was when he was trying to solve a problem, but _this wasn't Jace._

He got out of bed, still looking at her with that same quizzical expression. "Clary, are you okay?" he asked, coming around the bed.

She moved faster than she had thought possible, flinging open the bedside drawer and seizing the dagger inside. "Get away," she gasped.

He blinked at her in surprise. _You're a damned good actor,_ she thought_, but I know him._ "You're not Jace," she said. Her voice shook slightly, but her hand on the dagger was steady. "Where is he?"

He lifted his hands slowly, palms empty. "Clary," he said in a measured tone, "it's me. Just—just put the dagger down, okay?"

_"Liar!"_ she screamed. "Tell me where he is! Tell me what you did to him!"

And there it was again, that dark flash in his eyes. A smile spread across his face, and Clary felt the hairs on her neck stand up. "You're being crazy," he said, letting his hands fall to his side. "Come back to bed. It's late."

He reached for her again; without thinking, she plunged the dagger into his chest.

He gave a strangled gasp, blood spraying from his lips. His mouth gaped wordlessly as he collapsed onto his knees, then his back. Clary pulled the dagger free, her own breath coming out in bursts. The hilt of the blade stuck to her palm, glued there by Jace's blood—no, not Jace's blood, this wasn't Jace...

He stared at her with wide golden eyes, his face leeched of color. Despite herself, she knelt at his side, leaning over him. The shadows of his eyelashes fell across his cheekbones like scars. His lips were shaping words...her name...

_I love you_.

A cold wave of horror flooded her body. "Jace?" she whispered. She pressed her hands to the wound automatically, feeling hot blood gush up around her fingers. "It's not you—it's not..." She stared into his eyes through a veil of tears, and there was nothing in them, no shadow, no darkness, just that spark that was _Jace_...

And then the spark was gone. He gazed up at her, unseeing, as his chest stopped rising beneath her hands.

The room spun around her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think; he wasn't dead, he _couldn't_ be dead, because if he was dead then it was her fault, she had plunged that dagger into his heart, she had done this to him—

It felt as if she were shattering. She collapsed over him, a terrible scream exploding through the silence, ripping through her as if it were a demon clawing at her. "JACE! _JACE!_" She was clutching at him, fingers scrabbling across his body as if there were some way she could bring him back, some way she could pull him back to her. "NO! _JACE! PLEASE! _I'm sorry, Jace, I'm so sorry, please don't—please—_JACE! JACE!_"

"Clary, _wake up!_"

There were hands on her shoulders, shaking her forcefully. Her eyes flew open. She barely caught sight of their bedroom swinging wildly around her before something twisted inside her, and she knocked the hands aside, stumbling half-blind across the room. She threw herself in front of the trash can and vomited, bile scalding her throat.

"What the hell is going on?" She had just enough time to identify Simon's voice before her stomach lurched and she retched again, choking and coughing.

"Nightmare," said another voice. _Jace's_ voice.

Relief flooded through Clary even as guilt made her stomach clench. She was aware that she was sobbing, clutching the edge of the trash can like a lifeline. A hand stroked down her back—she flinched, pressing up against the wall, shaking uncontrollably as her sobs redoubled.

"Clary, it's okay," came Jace's voice again, soft and tender. She shook her head violently, curling into herself until she slid down onto her side, gasping into her knees.

"Clary," said Simon, his voice shaking.

Footsteps approached—then they halted abruptly as if someone had been stopped in their tracks. "Let me," came another quiet voice, hardly audible over Clary's sobs.

More footsteps, these ones lighter and more measured. Clary felt someone's weight settle beside her.

"Clary," said Isabelle gently. "Take deep breaths, okay? Can you do that?"

Clary drew in a trembling breath, let it out with a soft whimper. "You're okay," Isabelle said in a soothing voice. "Can I touch you?"

She nodded, slowly. She felt Isabelle's hand slide into hers. "Squeeze my hand. Take another breath."

She obliged; her heart rate was slowing, her breaths coming more easily. "You're okay," Isabelle whispered again. "Keep breathing."

"Clary," Jace murmured. The image of him, soaked in blood, still and lifeless, flashed across her vision, and she gave another shuddering sob, feeling tears spill down her face. She squeezed Isabelle's hand more tightly, felt a thumb rub gently across the back of her own.

Slowly, her breathing evened, her tears stopped flowing. She laid there for a long moment on the cold stone floor, feeling the pressure of Isabelle's hand in hers. Finally, she peeled her eyes open.

Isabelle was kneeling next to her, her face pale under her dark curtain of hair. "Feeling okay?" she said softly.

Clary didn't know how to answer that. She sat up slowly, releasing Isabelle's hand to wipe away her tears. She was hyperconscious of Jace hovering between her and the bed, shifting his weight cautiously. She couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't get the image of his bloodstained body out of her mind. Instead, she glanced at Simon, who was still standing near the door. He, too, looked pale, though he was doing far worse of a job than Isabelle at hiding his obvious terror. Clary's fingers went automatically to the _parabatai_ rune on her shoulder; she saw him mirror the gesture, seemingly unconsciously.

"I'm—I'm okay," she said, her voice scraping her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jace take a step towards her, and she instinctively pressed herself against the wall, her breath hitching as she turned her body away from him. "Give her some space," Izzy murmured, holding a hand up to him. He retreated, though Clary knew his eyes were still locked on her.

She let her eyelids shut, drawing in another deep breath. Jace was alive, he was healthy—she knew this, and yet she couldn't stop replaying the dream in her mind, feeling her own hand plunge a dagger into his chest. She had killed him. _She_ had done it—it had been her fingers wrapped around the knife. And it had felt so real...she had killed him without even thinking about it. Without even hesitating.

Her cheeks were wet again; she pulled up the hem of her tank top, wiping her face. "I'm okay," she whispered again, without looking at any of them.

"Do you need anything?" Isabelle said, her voice still gentle and soothing. "A glass of water?"

She nodded; her throat felt like sandpaper.

"I'll get it," said Jace. She felt his footsteps shake the floorboards as he passed.

"Clary," said Simon gently, approaching her slowly. "What happened?"

She shook her head, trying not to see Jace's lifeless body again. "It was—just a dream." With a great deal of effort, she pushed herself off the floor. Her knees were shaking. Isabelle made a soft noise, reaching out to help, but Clary moved away. "I'm fine," she said. She felt like she was on autopilot, tucked away inside herself. "I'm okay now."

"Are you sure?" said Isabelle. She was watching Clary concernedly, but before she could say anything else, Jace walked back in. He moved towards Clary carefully, as if he were approaching a frightened animal.

"Here," he said, offering her the glass of water. She reached out to take it, and as she did, her fingers brushed against his.

For a split second, she was back in the dream, and all she could see was his face, white and still, as if someone had carved it out of marble—and he was dead, really dead, and she had done it.

Her chest constricted. Distantly, she heard the sound of glass shattering.

"Clary?"

She blinked; she was back in her bedroom. Somehow, she had managed to press herself into a corner of the room. Her body was shaking so hard that the room seemed to be vibrating around her.

"Clary..." Jace said again, softly.

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay," said Jace gently. He reached out to her. She flinched.

"Please don't." She was barely aware of the tears sliding down her cheeks. "Please."

Hurt flashed across his face; he took a step back. "Okay," he said, his voice tight. "I'll—I'll go check on the Pyxis. Move it further away." He turned and left the room without looking at her.

Clary buried her face in her hands. She thought the weight of the guilt might crush her. It had only been a dream, she knew that—and yet when Jace touched her, she remembered how real it had all felt. She didn't want to be near him, didn't know if she could trust her own mind to see the truth. Had she imagined that shadow in the dream, or had Beelzebub manufactured it all? Was she even sure she was awake right now?

_Stop,_ she told herself sharply. _You're awake. Jace is fine._

_So why can't I look at him?_

Someone's arm slid around her shoulders. "Come on," said Isabelle softly. Clary let Isabelle lead her carefully around the shattered glass and to the bed, lowering her carefully on the edge of it.

"I'm sorry," Clary mumbled again. "Tell Jace I'm sorry."

"He knows you are," said Isabelle, sitting down beside her. She reached out and wiped Clary's tears with her sleeve. "But you don't need to be. It's not your fault."

Clary squeezed her eyes shut, unable to respond. She felt the bed depress on her other side. "Do you want to talk about it?" said Simon, taking her hand in his and rubbing it gently.

She shook her head again. "You should...you should go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's okay," said Simon. "We'll stay with you."

She didn't have the energy to argue. Exhaling slowly, she leaned over and rested her head on Simon's shoulder. She felt numb, spent. She wanted to sink back into sleep, into blissful ignorance, and she would have gone back to bed if it weren't for the fear that she would have another nightmare.

Simon's shoulder was mildly uncomfortable, hard with muscle. She closed her eyes, hoping the discomfort would be enough to keep her awake. Jace's face, white with shock and pain, seemed imprinted on the inside of her eyelids. She squeezed them tighter, trying to push it out of her mind, taking long breaths like Isabelle had told her to.

The minutes passed. Clary found herself somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, zoning in and out of consciousness. She could feel the low vibration of Simon's voice in her own skull.

"Izzy," he was saying, "how did you do that? How did you know how to help her?"

There was a long pause before she answered. "Max used to have nightmares sometimes," she said in the carefully measured tone she reserved for talking about her brother. "I learned how to calm him down."

They lapsed back into silence. A moment later, Clary heard footsteps and the creak of a door.

"Is she asleep?" came Jace's voice. Rough, tight—as if he were holding himself back.

"I think so," Simon said. "What took you so long?"

"I was walking around. I needed to clear my head. And I moved the Pyxis."

"Where?"

"The garden." There were a couple of tentative footsteps; they stopped abruptly, several feet away.

_He won't come near me_, Clary thought, even in her half-asleep state. _He thinks he's hurting me_.

She opened her eyes with a great deal of effort; it felt as if someone had glued iron weights to her eyelids. "Jace," she murmured. "Come here."

His footsteps approached, cautious and hesitant. Clary lifted her head off Simon's shoulder and pushed herself to standing, swaying slightly. Jace stood between her and the door, rocking back and forth warily. Slowly, Clary closed the distance between them and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry," she said again. The words seemed robotic to her, devoid of meaning. Nothing she could say would erase the expression he had had on his face when she had recoiled from him.

He stroked her back lightly. Carefully, in the way Jace rarely was. "Don't apologize," he whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong."

There was a soft shuffling behind them; Simon and Isabelle made their way out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Clary pulled away from Jace slightly and looked up into his eyes. They were shadowed, difficult to read. He smiled at her, a little sadly.

"Do you want to sleep?" he said softly.

_Yes_. _Forever_. "I don't know."

"Try," he said, stroking her cheek. "You look exhausted."

Her eyelids felt heavier; she let him lead her to the bed and slipped under the covers automatically. He tucked them in around her and climbed in behind her.

"I'll stay awake," he said, his voice a soft rumble. "If you so much as twitch, I'll wake you up."

"No," she murmured, already beginning to drift into unconsciousness. "Sleep. You should sleep."

"I'm fine," said Jace, and Clary thought she detected a sharp edge to his voice. "I won't let it happen again, Clary."

She opened her mouth to argue, but then darkness swirled around her and drew her down into its depths.

* * *

**A/N: If you've enjoyed reading this chapter, please leave a review! I would greatly appreciate it :)**

**As always, thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"You look like crap," Simon said by way of greeting the next morning as Jace entered the kitchen.

Jace scowled, heading straight for the coffee pot. He poured himself a mug, drained half of it in one go, and went back for a top-up. "At least that's not just the way my face looks on a daily basis," he retorted.

"_Rude_," said Simon, jabbing a finger at him. "And believe it or not, I actually wasn't trying to insult you. Did you sleep at all last night?"

Jace shrugged, swallowing another large gulp of coffee. In fact, he hadn't slept; after Clary's nightmare, he had stayed up all night, watching her carefully. He had had to shake her awake twice—she had been twitching and moaning—but she fell back asleep relatively quickly and calmly.

"How's Clary?" Simon asked.

"Better, I think," said Jace. "She got a little sleep, at least."

Simon was quiet for a moment, staring into his coffee. Then, abruptly, he spoke. "Something else happened last night," he said, locking eyes with Jace. "Clary said there was another demon attack."

Jace set his mug down. "Yeah," he said slowly.

"I heard the demon screech, so I came out to the entrance hall to see what was going on..." He stirred his coffee agitatedly. "I found Clary passed out on the floor. She said it was nothing, but then she had that nightmare..." He let the spoon slide through his fingers, clattering against the edge of his mug. "I think he got to her. The demon in the Pyxis, I mean."

Jace stared at him, absorbing the information. "What do you mean, got to her?" he said after a long moment.

Simon shook his head. "I don't know. Made her pass out somehow. She wouldn't tell me. But she seemed really unnerved." He lapsed into silence, gazing down at his mug. Finally, he said quietly, "She's keeping something from me."

"From me too," Jace said, remembering her vehement tone when she had made him promise not to blame himself. "Last night, before the attack, she was acting...strange."

"Strange how?"

Before Jace could answer, Isabelle entered the kitchen, stretching widely. "Morning," she yawned, heading for the far cabinet. She opened it, took down a bowl, and poured cereal into it from the box sitting on the counter. "What were you two talking about?" she said, reaching past Jace to open the fridge and pull out the carton of milk. She went to pour some into her cereal; nothing came out. "Really?" she grumbled, tossing it at Jace. He caught it easily.

"Sorry," he said, throwing the empty carton away. "The grocery shipment should be coming in soon."

Isabelle frowned, plopping herself at the table and taking a bite of the dry cereal. "How's Clary?" she asked through a mouthful of cornflakes, accidentally spraying Simon. He winced.

"I'm fine," said a voice from the doorway. Jace looked up; Clary stood there, smiling tiredly. She made her way over to him.

"You weren't there when I woke up," she said in an undertone.

"I wanted to give you some space," he said, a little stiffly. He remembered the way she had flinched away from his touch, sobbing heartbrokenly. He didn't want to be the cause of more pain for her.

She shook her head, as if she could read his thoughts. "I don't want space from you," she said softly, grazing his cheek with her fingers. He couldn't quite read the expression on her face; it looked somewhere between sorrow and guilt. "I'm sorry about last night. I was just jumpy. I know you only wanted to help."

He laid his hand over hers. She stretched up and brushed her lips against his, and he closed his eyes, pressing into her.

"Don't mind us," said Simon loudly from behind them. "We'll just blend into the furniture."

Jace made a rude gesture behind Clary's back. She pulled away, flushing slightly.

"I guess I should apologize to you, too," she said a little sheepishly. "Sorry I woke you both up with my shrieking."

Neither of them smiled. "Clary, are you sure you're okay?" said Isabelle. "You seemed really shaken up."

"Terrified, more like," Simon said.

She shook her head, giving them both a smile. It looked very pasted-on. "Don't worry about me. I'm doing fine."

Isabelle opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the doorbell chimed.

"I'll get it," said Clary, and, still smiling, she left the kitchen.

"Is it just me, or is she acting really weird?" said Isabelle. Neither Jace nor Simon replied. Jace set about making another pot of coffee.

A minute later, Clary came back in, her parents trailing behind her.

"Morning," said Luke, waving at the rest of them.

"Did everyone get enough sleep?" Jocelyn said. She glanced around at them, pursing her lips at the sight of their weary faces.

Before Jace could answer, Clary's eyes lit up with delight. "Ooh, is that fresh coffee?" she said. She made a beeline for the coffee pot and poured herself a mug, dumping sugar in it before taking a long sip. "Ahhh," she said, closing her eyes. "That's the stuff."

"If you're going to drink coffee, you have to eat something, too," Jace said, tugging the mug out of her hands. She pouted. "Food first, then coffee."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said, reaching for the cereal.

"There's no milk," Isabelle said irritably.

"None?" Clary opened the fridge and stuck her head in. "I thought we had another carton." She dug around for a moment before straightening triumphantly, with a carton of milk clutched in her hand. "Aha!" She unscrewed the top. "Here we—nope."

Jace wrinkled his nose as the pungent odor of spoiled milk drifted across the kitchen.

"_Crap_," Clary said, clapping a hand over her mouth. She shoved the carton into Jace's hands and bolted out of the room.

"Oh, dear," said Jocelyn, staring after her daughter worriedly. "How long has that been going on?"

"A week or so," Jace sighed, dumping the spoiled milk into the sink. "I should go make sure she's okay."

"No, I'll do it," said Jocelyn briskly, and she followed Clary out of the room.

There was a long silence. Jace rubbed his temples, leaning back against the counter.

"Are you eating dry cereal?" Luke asked Isabelle abruptly.

She glanced at her bowl. "Uh...yeah."

Luke sighed. "All right. I'm making all of you a proper breakfast. Pass me the eggs."

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, breakfast was well underway. Luke had thrown together a haphazard meal of toast and scrambled eggs, churning out more than enough for everyone. Simon and Izzy had already wolfed theirs down and gone back for seconds. Jace picked at his, prodding the eggs with his fork.

"I'm _fine_, Mom." Jace heard Clary's voice growing louder. "It's just morning sickness. I'll live."

"I'm just saying you should take it a little easy today," came Jocelyn's voice, sounding harried.

"I was pregnant yesterday, and I'll be pregnant tomorrow," said Clary, entering the kitchen with Jocelyn close on her heels. "Morning sickness is just part of the gig. I'll deal with it. I'm not going to be able to 'take it easy' every day until the baby comes."

"But—"

"Mom," said Clary, sounding exasperated as she headed for the counter, on which sat two more plates of eggs and toast. "You're starting to sound like Maryse. Just let it go, okay? Right now, I just want to eat without you breathing down my neck." She sniffed the eggs and wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. On second thought, I'll eat later."

"What's wrong with the eggs?" said Luke, his mouth half full.

"Nothing," Clary sighed, plopping down next to Jace. "In fact, they smell great. To me. The baby, on the other hand, seems to think they're the most disgusting thing on the planet." She put her head down on the table. "Pregnancy is fun," she said, her voice muffled.

"What happened to dealing with it?" said Jocelyn, sounding amused as she grabbed her own plate. She kissed the top of Luke's head before sitting down beside him and popping a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"I'm dealing," came Clary's voice through the tablecloth. Jace reached over and stroked her hair. She pulled her hand out from under the table and patted his arm clumsily.

"I hate to break it to you, but it only gets worse from here," said Jocelyn cheerfully. "As soon as the morning sickness ends, you get heartburn and stretch marks and—"

"Okay, that's it," said Clary wearily, lifting her head up. "I'm inventing a rune for male pregnancy."

"Please don't," said Jace and Simon together. Their respective wives scowled at them.

"I, for one, agree with Clary," said Isabelle, tipping her chair back so it balanced on two legs. "Why do women have to bear the brunt of it all? I'm just glad I'm not doing it anytime soon."

Simon glanced at her sideways. "Wait..."

Jace shoved the rest of his eggs into his mouth and stood up abruptly. He swallowed with some difficulty. "Well," he said, "this has been fun, but I think we should get back to work."

"Agreed," said Jocelyn, finishing her eggs with much more dignity. The others began to get up, ferrying their plates to the sink with choruses of "See you in the library" as they filed out.

Clary pushed her chair back and stood up. She swayed, clutching the back of her chair for support. "Oh, _wow_, that's not a good feeling."

Jace went over to her. "When's the last time you ate?" he said in an undertone.

"Uh," she said. "I think I ate dinner last night?"

"No, you didn't," Jace said, folding his arms. "You had two bites of pizza before you started feeling nauseous again. And then you threw up after—"

"Shh," Clary hissed. "Don't let my parents hear." Jocelyn and Luke, having dropped off their dishes, followed Simon and Izzy out of the kitchen. Clary watched them for a moment, waiting until they were out of sight before turning back to Jace. "I'm fine," she said, giving Jace a thoroughly unconvincing smile.

Jace shook his head, took her arm, and lowered her back into her chair. "You have to eat something."

"Jace," she sighed, "I'm telling you, I can't keep anything down."

Jace plucked his uneaten toast off his plate and set it in front of Clary. "You can handle some toast."

She rolled her eyes, but picked up one of the pieces of toast and began to nibble at it. The kitchen was now empty, except for the two of them. Jace left Clary at the table, headed over to the sink, and began to wash the dishes.

"I can do that later, if you want to head over to the library," Clary said, taking another small bite of toast.

"It's fine," said Jace, scrubbing at one of the plates. "I actually wanted to talk to you."

"Uh-oh," said Clary jokingly. "What did I do?"

"I'm being serious," Jace said, flicking the tap off and turning to face her. "I think we need to talk about last night."

She stopped chewing. "Well...I don't really want to talk about it," she said, her voice a little stiff.

"I didn't mean your dream," Jace said. He dried his hands on the dishtowel and came over to sit next to her. "Simon said you passed out last night."

"Oh. That." She began to tear the crust off the toast. "It's like you said. I hadn't eaten anything in a while."

"So it's true, then," said Jace, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "You passed out and didn't tell me about it."

"Because I knew you'd start worrying!" Clary said exasperatedly, abandoning the toast. "You worry if I get so much as a papercut—"

"This is more than just a papercut!" Jace snapped. "A demon is _attacking_ you—"

"That's not what it was!"

"Sure sounds like it," Jace retorted. "That, along with the way you've been acting—"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Clary demanded.

"You're keeping something from me!" said Jace. "Me, and everyone else—Simon—you're trying to downplay how bad it is—"

"I'm _fine_—"

"—when you know it's only going to end up hurting you!" Jace shouted, drowning her out. He couldn't stand it anymore—he shoved himself back from the table, turning away from her. He was breathing hard. Slowly, he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to slow his heartrate. Behind him, Clary was silent.

Finally, he turned around. She was staring down at the tablecloth. "We promised each other," he said, his voice rough. "When we got married, we promised we wouldn't put up any defenses. We promised we'd be honest with each other."

There was another long, taut silence.

"I'm sorry," Clary whispered. A tear splashed into her lap.

Jace felt broken. He went over to the table and sat down beside her. "No, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to start a fight. I'm just—" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm worried about you. As long as the demon is here, I'm going to keep worrying about you. And we both know that trying to protect each other, putting up walls, keeping secrets—it doesn't work."

"I know," Clary said. She put her head in her hands. "I know you're worried. If it was you, I'd be worried, too."

"Exactly." Jace reached out tentatively and laid a hand on her arm. He took it as a good sign that she didn't immediately retract it. "You and I both know that talking about this stuff helps. Remember when Lilith was sending me dreams?"

"Vividly," she said in a thick voice.

"Trying to keep them a secret from you didn't help. It just made everything worse." He rubbed his thumb across her arm. "We're better as a team. You know that."

She exhaled. "I know." Slowly, she lifted her head out of her hands and looked at him with steely determination, despite her red-rimmed eyes. "Okay. Ask me what you want to know."

"Did you pass out last night because of the demon?" he said without preamble.

"Yes." She stared down at her hands. "I thought it was just a headache at first. It got worse when I came into the entrance hall. Eventually, it got so bad I just passed out."

"And what happened?" Jace said. "Did you have a dream?"

She shook her head. "I might have if Simon hadn't woken me up. But no, nothing happened."

"Okay," said Jace, the knot in his chest loosening slightly. "What was your dream about last night?"

She closed her eyes. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"I know," he said gently. "It's just...you were screaming for me. Screaming my name."

Clary exhaled slowly. "I...I dreamed you got hurt," she said, in a voice barely more than a whisper. "And I couldn't save you."

"That's it?"

"It felt..." Her voice was shaking. A tear slipped down her cheek. "It felt really real. I thought..."

Jace stroked her hand. "But it wasn't." He brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "I'm not dying anytime soon, Clary."

She nodded, blinking hard and brushing at her eyes. "What else do you want to know?" she said, in a more level voice.

He kept rubbing her hand. "What was your first dream about?" he asked gently.

"I told you already." She sounded weary. "And anyway, I don't remember a lot of it. All I remember is getting burned."

"Are you sure?"

She met his gaze. "Yes."

"Okay," he said, not quite believing her, but not willing to push the subject. He took a deep breath. "Why did you tell me not to blame myself last night?"

Her eyes were shining again. "Because I knew you would," she said softly. "You always do. No matter what happens, you find a way to blame yourself. And I hate seeing you do that to yourself." She took his hand in both of hers. "None of this is your fault. I know you feel like it is, but it isn't, okay?"

"Do you think he's attacking you to get back at me for trapping him?" Jace said, dreading the answer.

"_No_," she said fiercely. "He's a demon, Jace. This is what they do for enjoyment. The only reason he's attacking me is because I'm an easy target right now. It has nothing to do with you."

"If I hadn't trapped him—"

"Magnus would be _dead_," Clary said forcefully. "We talked about this, remember?" She squeezed his hand. "You did the right thing. So no more feeling guilty, all right?"

He nodded, letting out a long breath. He hadn't realized how much the question of whether he was responsible for Clary's suffering had been weighing on him.

Clary gave him a soft smile. "He'll give up, eventually," she said gently. "He'll get bored, and he'll stop attacking me. I promise. This will all be over soon."

"Shouldn't I be the one reassuring you?" Jace said, smiling a little.

"We're a team, remember?" Clary said. She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you," she whispered against his lips.

"I love you, too," he murmured, leaning into her kiss. It was a long moment before they finally drew away from each other. "Okay, now finish your toast," said Jace.

Clary gave a surprised little huff of laughter. "Whatever you say."

* * *

The day seemed to pass by in a flash; one moment, Clary was sitting down at the long table in the library with everyone else, the next, night had fallen outside the window and the others were hunched over their books, stifling yawns. Sighing, Clary leaned back in her chair and closed her book with a soft _snap_.

"I think we should call it a night," she said.

"Oh, thank the Angel," Izzy mumbled, laying her head on her book. Simon closed his and reached over to stroke her hair. "Clary, you know I love you, but there isn't enough coffee in the world for this."

"I can't believe we haven't found _anything_," Jace said, snapping his own book closed. "We must have read through half the library by now."

"Not even a quarter," Clary said, patting his arm.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Clary sighed. "We'll find something. And if we don't, Magnus and Alec will. Or Tessa and Jem." She leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We have a whole army behind us."

"Usually, you have to provide food to the army," Isabelle pointed out. Clary rolled her eyes and went over to her parents, who were sitting on the couch, heads bent together in conversation.

Jocelyn looked up as Clary approached. "Hi, honey," she said. "Feeling okay?"

Clary smiled despite herself. "I'm fine, Mom," she said patiently. "Do you guys want to stay here tonight?"

"Actually, that would be nice," Jocelyn sighed. "This is hard work enough without the commute. Oh," she said, looking at Clary suddenly. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," said Clary reassuringly. "I know it's not exactly a walk in the park."

"But we're happy to do it," Luke said. "If it'll help you, we're glad to do our part."

"I know," said Clary, smiling. Her parents stood, stretching widely before taking turns to hug her. "Love you," she said, her voice muffled in Luke's shoulder.

"Love you, too," they chorused, before heading out of the library. Clary made her way back to the table.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Simon was saying as she approached.

"What do you mean?" Clary said.

He looked at her. "I think we'll probably have to take it in shifts to keep watch over you. Jace can't stay up forever—"

"That's what Wakefulness runes are for," said Jace, sounding weary. "I can handle it myself. You two should sleep."

"Oh, stop being such a hero," said Isabelle irritably. "Simon's right, we should take it in shifts—"

"No one's watching over me!" Clary interjected. "I'll be fine. Now _everyone_ needs to get some sleep if we're going to keep at this tomorrow."

"Clary's right," said Jace, looking at Simon and Isabelle. "You should both get to bed."

Clary smacked his shoulder lightly. "I'm talking about you, too. No staying up tonight."

"Clary," said Jace in a low voice, "if you have another nightmare—"

"I'll be _fine_," she said. "They're just nightmares. Last night...it caught me off guard, that's all. I'll be prepared this time."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's how nightmares work," he said.

Clary fixed him with a stare. "Look, if I wake everyone up with my screaming, I'll concede defeat. Until then, _everyone_—" She looked pointedly at Jace— "is going to bed. Got it?"

Isabelle muttered something that sounded like, "Bossy," but she took Simon's hand and trudged away, leading him out through the door.

"You, too," said Clary, slipping her hand into Jace's. "Bedtime."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Jace said quietly. "You know I don't mind staying up."

"You can't stay up every night," Clary said decisively. "Now come on. Let's go to bed."

He sighed and let her lead him out of the library.

* * *

"Jace," said Clary, without turning around to look at him, "go to sleep."

She was tucked up against Jace in bed. He felt rigid against her, as if he were holding himself very stiffly. She felt him sigh against her neck.

"I'm trying," he said, entirely unconvincingly.

She let out an exasperated huff and rolled over. He gazed at her with luminous gold eyes. "No, you're not," she said. "You're trying to keep yourself awake."

"Fine," he said irritably. "So what?"

Letting out a long breath, Clary reached up and brushed his hair back. "Go to _sleep_. Please," she added in a softer voice. "This isn't helping either of us."

"If I can wake you up from a nightmare—"

"Then what?" she said wearily. "You'll stay up every night?"

"If I have to," he said determinedly.

She sighed. "What good will that do?" she said softly. "You're just going to burn yourself out."

"I'll sleep during the day tomorrow," he said. "I promise."

She shook her head. "Please just go to sleep, Jace." She gazed into his eyes. "I don't want to be the reason for your suffering," she whispered.

Something in him seemed to soften. "I...okay," he said finally. Clary kissed his cheek gently before rolling back over and curling up against him. "Good night, Clary."

"Good night," she said.

The minutes ticked by slowly. Gradually, Clary felt Jace relax against her, his breathing growing slower and more even. Experimentally, Clary shifted slightly away from him. He didn't move.

Carefully, Clary began to extricate herself from under his arm, trying hard not to jostle the bed. Eventually, she managed to slip out of the bed, leaving Jace sound asleep. Exhaling in relief, she quickly set about gathering things. She quietly grabbed her stele and witchlight stone from the bedside drawer, caught up a blanket from the closet, and slid her feet into slippers. Finally, she tiptoed over to the door, opened it extremely cautiously, and slipped out of the room.

Five minutes later, she had made her way back into the library by the light of the runestone. She unfurled the blanket and spread it out on the sofa, kicking off her slippers. Taking up her stele, she deftly carved a silencing rune into her wrist. Then she doused her light, curled up beneath the blanket, and stared into the darkness.

She was surprised, actually, at how well her plan was working thus far. Jace, with any luck, would stay asleep until morning without ever having known she was gone. She would have to get a few hours of sleep, she knew—but once she inevitably had a nightmare, she would awaken and try to stay awake until it was late enough in the morning to go back upstairs and get back into bed before Jace woke up. Jace wouldn't have to keep himself awake, he'd never know she was still having nightmares, and everyone could go on with their lives.

She burrowed deeper under her blanket, shivering slightly. Half of her hoped the cold would keep her awake; the other, exhausted half longed to fall asleep, despite knowing she would awaken in terror. She shifted, pressing herself into the corner of the sofa.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock felt as if it were putting her into a trance. She felt her eyelids grow heavier...

Clary jerked awake, her heart pounding. She sat up quickly, the blanket falling off her; it was as if someone had pulled a plunger and sucked her into her body. She took a long breath, trying to slow her heartbeat; the room was silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock. She tried to focus her mind, struggling to remember if she had had a nightmare, but it was like trying to catch smoke; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grasp any memory.

"Clary?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She scrambled off the couch, the blanket sliding to the floor. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway. "What are you doing down here?" it said.

Clary let out a breath of relief. "Simon. You scared me."

The person moved, flicking on the lights; Clary squinted in the sudden brightness, barely able to make out Simon's rumpled figure.

"Were you sleeping down here?" he said, his voice rough, as if he had just woken up.

"I was researching, actually," Clary said, lying easily. "I couldn't fall asleep, so I came down here. But then I got tired, and I didn't want to go back upstairs, so...yeah, I slept down here." She moved toward the door. "But now that I'm awake, I might as well go back up," she finished hurriedly. "Night, Simon." She tried to move past him; he grabbed her arm.

"Clary," he said quietly. "Please don't lie to me."

"I'm not—"

"Don't," he said again. He loosened his grip on her arm, sliding his hand down to wrap around hers. "You can trust me," he said.

"I know..."

He was too close; Clary tried to take a step back, but he followed. His nose was an inch from hers. "Simon," she said, her voice catching. "What are you doing?"

"I love you, Clary," he said, smiling. She swallowed; it was as if a drop of ice water were sliding down her spine. "Let me love you."

He was gripping her hand so tightly that it hurt. She took another step away—and he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers.

Bile rose in her throat. She wrenched herself away from him, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She barely had a moment to gasp out, "What the _hell_—" before he seized her arms and slammed her against the wall. All the air rushed out of her lungs.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking upset. "I thought you loved me too."

She struggled, but his grip on her was too tight. "Get off me! Simon!"

"Don't fight me," he breathed. "You want this, I know you do." He fit his body against hers, pressing her into the wall. She felt like she might vomit.

"Si," she whispered, "this isn't you..."

The realization came to her in a sharp stroke. _This is a dream_.

He nipped at her lower lip—and she slammed her head against his as hard as she could.

His grip loosened as he cried out, and she shoved him away, stumbling into the middle of the room. Before he could move, she seized a sword from the table and pointed it at him.

He only laughed. "Come on, Clary," he said, sounding so much like Simon that doubt flooded Clary's body. "What are you going to do, kill me? I'm your best friend. Your _parabatai._"

"It's not real," Clary said. "It's not, I know it's not."

"So wake up, then," Simon said. "Go on."

_It's not Simon_, said a firm voice in her mind. But there was another voice, a tiny whisper: _but what if it is? What if this time, you really kill him?_

Jace's bloodstained body flashed through her mind's eye. She swallowed a sob.

"It's not real, it's not real," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. Simon laughed softly.

_Kill him_, said a harsh whisper in her mind.

She opened her eyes, lifting the sword; but he only stood there and looked at her, a little sadly. Her heart contracted.

She threw the sword down. Simon grinned. "I knew you'd come around," he said, advancing on her.

"Don't!" she cried. He only laughed. Her mind was racing. _I have to wake up_, she thought. _How do I wake up?_

"Come here," he said, reaching for her again. She stumbled backwards, her heart hammering in her chest. _Think_, she thought desperately. _What can pull you out of a dream?_

_Shock_, she realized. Something had to startle her enough to jerk her out of the dream. She looked wildly around the room—_there_.

Simon reached out—Clary flung herself past him and snatched up a heavy lamp in her right hand.

_"NO!"_ Simon shouted, lunging forward just as she slammed the lamp onto her other arm.

There was a blinding, sickening pain that made her vision go white, wiping out all conscious thought—

She sat bolt upright, screaming out before she could catch herself. She was glad she had had the foresight to put on a silencing rune; all that escaped her was a silent puff of breath. Her left arm was throbbing painfully; sobbing silently, she cradled it to her chest, curling into a ball.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Isabelle's voice: _Deep breath_. She drew in a hiccupping breath, tears sliding down her face. _Another one_. She inhaled slowly, exhaling with a shuddering sob. _Keep going_.

Gradually, her pulse began to slow. Her left arm was still throbbing, so hard that she could feel the vibration in her shoulder. _Focus on what you can fix,_ said Isabelle's soothing voice. She nodded automatically. Sniffling, she wiped away her tears with her uninjured hand and reached over, grabbing her stele and witchlight. With some difficulty, she managed to wedge the witchlight into her left hand, wincing as her arm jolted with pain. The light flickered on.

The skin of her forearm was dominated by a massive bruise, purpling before her eyes. She took another deep breath, willing herself not to cry. _Assess the situation,_ said Isabelle. _This is just like any other injury_.

Moving with efficiency, Clary swiped her thumb across the witchlight, increasing its brightness. She leaned forward and examined her arm clinically, carefully turning it over, attempting to stretch her fingers; it didn't appear to be broken. She flexed her wrist experimentally, wincing as pain shot up the length of her arm. Taking up the stele, she inked an _iratze _into the crook of her elbow. It sank in, vanishing almost immediately. Her arm continued to throb.

She sighed, setting the stele aside and extinguishing the runestone. She hadn't really expected the _iratze_ to work, though how she was going to hide the enormous bruise from everyone, she wasn't quite sure. She supposed she would just have to wear long sleeves and hope no one accidentally brushed up against her arm.

Exhaling slowly, she leaned back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. The dream replayed like a video above her; she couldn't get the image of Simon's smile out of her head. Swallowing hard, she rolled onto her side, trying to think about anything else.

At least she had woken up. She had woken _herself _up. And now that she knew how to do it, she could do it again. As soon as she could figure out she was dreaming, she could wake herself up. It wasn't much, but it was something.

She stared at the back of the couch, her left arm draped across her body; her fingers brushed against her stomach. Slowly, she moved her fingers down, letting them splay out across her lower belly.

All at once, and for the first time, she truly considered what her mother had said. She didn't have to do this; she could choose to walk away, choose to have an abortion to save herself. She knew it was the logical thing to do; and when the time was right and the danger had passed, she and Jace could have another baby.

It wasn't as if they had planned it. If Clary was honest with herself, she wasn't even sure she was ready for this. Ready to be a mother. But, _oh,_ how much she wanted it...maybe she wouldn't have chosen this path if she had known what laid ahead, but now that she was on it, she didn't want anything more.

That was what it came down to, really—her _choice_. _Hers_. Not Jocelyn's, not the Clave's, and, most importantly, not Beelzebub's. He didn't get to force her to make this choice. It was hers, and hers alone.

Tentatively, she rubbed her fingers across her stomach, barely even registering the pain in her arm anymore. _I choose you_, she thought fiercely. _I'm fighting for you. And no one gets to take you away._

She rolled onto her back, letting out a long breath as a tear slid down the side of her face. _I'm fighting for you_, she thought again, the words a whisper in her mind. _I will never stop fighting for you._

* * *

**A/N: If you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! Thank you so much for reading!**

**~4L**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The clock on the wall of the library ticked incessantly. Simon had to resist the urge to rip it down and fling it out the window.

They had all spent the last few weeks wrapped up in researching how to trap the demon. For the first couple of days, Simon and Isabelle had stayed at the Institute, joining Jace and Clary early in the morning in the library to pull down stacks of books from the shelves, poring over them until nightfall. Each morning they were joined by Jocelyn and Luke. Tessa and Jem tried to help by sending documents over occasionally, but they had their own business to attend to and the others rarely saw them, though they knew they were doing their best to help from afar. Maryse had been there for the first three days as well; she had constantly hovered over Clary, badgering her to eat and rest, and eventually Clary had snapped, telling her to go research with Alec and Magnus. They hadn't seen much of Maryse since; Simon suspected Alec had told her to lay off.

The others dropped in occasionally to share information they had found, but none of it ever came to any fruition. Eventually, Izzy had remembered hearing about a rare copy of an ancient spellbook in the Morocco Institute's library. She and Simon had packed up immediately and traveled there, careful not to reveal too much to the heads of the Institute; they were still trying to keep the extent of the situation under wraps.

It took them the better part of two weeks to find the spellbook. At last, Izzy had pulled it triumphantly from a bookcase that was so covered in dust it looked like a mass of gray cotton. They had both riffled eagerly through the pages—but the spellbook turned out to be extremely outdated, filled with error and misinformation, and so they returned to New York, weary and discouraged.

Jace was clearly disappointed to hear that their trip had come to nothing, but he said nothing other than to tell them that Tessa had sent over a packet of notes from the Spiral Labyrinth and that they had better get started on them.

Now, Simon hid a yawn as his eyes skidded over the same sentence for the fifteenth time. It didn't help that the book he was reading was in Chthonian; by the time he finished deciphering one sentence, he had forgotten the previous one. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, and glanced around the room. In the chair beside him, Jace was hunched over Tessa's notes, eyes flicking back and forth across the page. Isabelle's chair on Simon's other side was empty; she had left a quarter of an hour ago to pick up Chinese food for all of them, claiming that they couldn't possibly focus on empty stomachs. Jocelyn and Luke, Jace had told them, were looking through the pack's documents for anything that might help.

And Clary...Simon hadn't seen her since he and Izzy had left for Morocco. Jace had told him upon their return that she was resting up in their room; they had fallen behind on the Institute's paperwork since the night of the attack, and she had spent the last few days catching up on it all while the others researched. "She deserves a break," Jace had said firmly, as if daring Simon to object. He hadn't; he remembered that first night, when she had broken down sobbing in the library, and the horrible nightmare that had followed...he quite agreed with Jace that she was going through enough without being forced to research along with all of them.

Blinking tiredly, Simon turned back to his book, skimming the dense text. Beside him, Jace let out a surprised noise; Simon looked up again, thinking he had found something. But Jace was looking at the doorway, where a figure stood against the frame. Simon's lips parted in shock.

Clary looked absolutely awful. Dark half-moons marred the skin under her eyes, her hair hung thin and limp around her shoulders, the vivid green of her eyes seemed duller, and, despite the fact that her stomach should have been rounding, she had clearly lost weight.

Jace stood, crossing the room to her side and kissing her cheek. "You should be resting," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I'm not tired," she said, smiling weakly. "And now that we're all caught up on paperwork, I should be helping with the research." She caught sight of Simon; he was still staring at her in disbelief. "Hey. When did you get back?"

He found his voice. "What _happened_ to you?" he said.

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

Simon's eyes flickered to Jace, who gave a tiny shake of his head, his eyes dark. Jace took Clary's hand, leading her over to Isabelle's empty chair. "Do you want to just sleep down here?" he said gently. "You should relax."

She shook her head, reaching across the table and grabbing a worn copy of _Daemonatica_. "I'll be bored out of my mind if I don't do something." She smiled at him as she opened the book, balancing it on the arm of her chair and tucking her legs up beside her.

"You look like death," Simon said in an undertone as Jace went back to his chair, picking up the notes again.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

"I mean it," said Simon, watching her. "You don't look healthy."

She met his eyes, giving a very false smile. "I'm fine, Simon. Don't worry about me." And before he could say anything else, she bent over her book, her body language very clearly ending the conversation.

Simon sighed, turning back to his own book. The clock ticked on and on as the minutes went by; Simon felt as if the sound were burrowing into his skull. He tried to block it out, focusing on translating the text in front of him. After struggling with a particularly convoluted phrase for five minutes, he let out a frustrated groan.

"Damn it all, what the hell is this word?" he said aloud. He turned to Clary. "Hey, does this mean 'bumblebee' or—"

He broke off. Clary had fallen asleep, her head pillowed on her book, hair fluttering with every snore. "Um, Jace," said Simon, poking him in the arm. Jace glanced up, catching sight of Clary. He seemed surprised to see her asleep. "Your wife is drooling on a very rare copy of _Daemonatica_."

"Let her," said Jace tonelessly. "I don't think she's been sleeping well. Any sleep she can get is a good thing."

"Demon nightmares?" Simon guessed.

Jace shook his head. "Not since that night that she woke us all up. I think...it's more that she's afraid to sleep."

"How do you know?"

"Know what?" said Jace abstractedly, watching his wife.

"How do you know she hasn't had any more nightmares?"

"You saw how it was that night," said Jace in a hard voice. "She was screaming so loudly that you heard her from three rooms away. If she was having nightmares, I'd know."

"But—"

Jace stood up abruptly. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee. You want some?"

Simon was silent for a moment, watching Jace. "Yeah, okay," he said finally. "Thanks." Jace gave a grunt of acknowledgement and left the room. Simon glanced at Clary again before turning back to his book.

There was a soft noise; Simon looked up. Clary shifted in her chair, giving another barely audible moan. Suddenly, she thrashed; the book slid from underneath her head and fell to the floor with a crash. Clary sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open as she let out a cry.

"Clary," said Simon, kneeling beside her chair. She drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes, evidently trying to steady herself. When she opened them again, she was calm.

"I'm okay," she said, in a voice that would have sounded light to anyone who did not know her as well as Simon did. "It was just a—"

"Demon nightmare," Simon finished.

"I was going to say dream," said Clary, pulling herself up straight.

"Cut the crap, Clary," Simon said. "It was a nightmare, wasn't it?"

She glanced down. "It...might have been. But I'm fine, I swear."

"Jace said you weren't having any more nightmares."

"Jace," said Clary in a level voice, "doesn't know. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Clary—"

"Simon," she said, standing up and picking up her book from the floor. "I said I'm fine. Just let it go."

She made to move past him, but he caught her arm, pulling her back. She gasped, yanking her arm out of his grip and holding it against her body gingerly.

"What—" Simon stepped forward, and before she could stop him, he grabbed her sleeve and pulled it up.

He stared.

Bruises decorated her arm like some macabre rainbow, greens and yellows mingling with reds and blacks and blues and purples. Simon pulled her sleeve back further; the bruises snaked up her entire forearm, so abundant that Simon could hardly see any unmarked skin at all.

"What the _hell_," he breathed. Clary looked away. "Clary, how—did the _demon_ do this to you?"

"No," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't lie to me," he snapped. She flinched. Slightly surprised, he released her, and she moved away from him, turning her back. "I'm sorry," he said, in a softer tone. "I just—how did this happen?"

"It's nothing," she said shortly, pulling her sleeve back down over her arm.

"Is it like the burn? Is he hurting you in the dreams?" Simon said with more urgency, catching at her hand again as she tried to move further away. "Clary, _tell me_."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Clary said, shrugging him off.

"You don't _have _to handle it. If you tell Jace, we could—"

"I'm not telling Jace," Clary said flatly. "He doesn't need to know, and there's nothing either of you can do about the dreams, so just drop it, okay?"

Before Simon could say anything else, Jace came back in, carrying two mugs of coffee. "I told you not to wake her up!" he said, frowning at Simon.

"I didn't," said Simon. "She had a—"

"A very strong craving for coffee," Clary said loudly, cutting him off. "And look at you, my knight in shining armor, bringing me just what I need." She plucked one of the mugs out of Jace's hands and took a sip. She wrinkled her nose. "You put cream in it."

"That's because it was supposed to be mine," said Simon, crossing his arms.

"You'll live," said Jace, sipping from the other mug. Simon scowled, but before he could speak, the chime of the doorbell reverberated through the Institute, followed by a loud banging on the front door. "That'll be Isabelle with the food," said Jace, setting his mug down. "I'll go help her." He strode out of the room, and Simon immediately turned to Clary.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tell Jace right now," he said.

"Simon," Clary sighed, putting her own mug down. "What good would it do? He'll freak out, and then he'll be worried out of his mind, and then he'll be overcome with guilt because he can't fix it. You know how he is. He feels guilty about absolutely everything that isn't perfect in our lives." She sank down into her chair. "I'm just trying to protect him."

"Right, sounds reasonable," said Simon dryly. "Don't protect the girl who's getting beaten every night by a supernatural demon with magic dream powers. Protect her totally unscathed husband instead."

Clary gave him a look. "I know you don't understand. Can you just trust me on this? Trust that it's important to me?"

He met her gaze levelly for a moment. Finally, he said quietly, "You promised you would tell me if it got worse."

She was silent for a long moment. "Can you blame me for wanting to protect you, too?" she said softly, tears filling her eyes.

It felt as if his heart were cracking. Silently, he reached out, pulling her out of her chair and into a hug. She melted into him, the energy seeming to drain out of her.

"Don't ever think you need to protect me," he said, stroking her hair. "And don't ever think this is a burden you have to bear alone."

"I know," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. She pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, letting out a slow breath.

"You going to be okay?" said Simon, watching her.

She nodded, and he squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, then released him, going back to her chair. He followed, sinking into his own and settling his book across his lap.

"Simon?"

He looked at her.

"Thank you," she said, with a soft smile.

He returned the smile and reached out to ruffle her hair. "I love you, Clary."

"Love you, too. Don't touch my hair."

* * *

The pounding on the front door grew louder and more insistent as Jace hurried down the hallway. "All right, all right, I'm coming," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he reached the doors and threw them open.

The snarky comment he had been about to make died in his throat. Chinese takeout containers littered the front steps, kung pao chicken and fried rice scattered across the lawn. And there, melting out of the darkness, was a demon, its purplish tentacles wrapped around Isabelle's throat, supporting her limp body as her head lolled, long dark hair brushing the ground.

"Hand over the Pyxis," the demon said, his voice like slime suctioning through a tube, "or she dies."

* * *

"What's taking them so long?" Simon complained, shutting his book with a _snap_ and going over to the large window that overlooked the front lawn. "I'm starving."

Clary sighed, marking her place in _Daemonatica _and setting it aside. She stretched, wincing slightly as the bruises on her left arm sent a ripple of pain across it. "They'll be here in a second. Stop being so impatient." Her own stomach gave a loud rumble. "I don't suppose you ordered kung pao chicken?" she added hopefully.

He didn't answer. She looked up at him. He had gone very pale, his eyes widening.

"Simon?" she said, half-rising out of her chair. "What's wrong?"

Without a word, he turned and ran out of the library, disappearing down the hallway. "Simon!" Clary called after him. Swearing under her breath, she got up and dashed to the window, squinting in the darkness. There were two figures on the porch of the Institute. She recognized Jace's golden hair—he seemed to be holding out his hands in a peacemaking gesture to the other figure, who looked oddly disfigured, and appeared to be hugging someone else—or choking them? —someone with long, dark hair—

Clary's eyes widened, and she took off after Simon, bolting toward the entrance hall. She caught up with him just as he skidded to a halt on the threshold, staring out at the scene before them.

The demon swiveled to look at them, Isabelle's head lolling precariously in its tentacled grip. Clary registered it as a Cecaelia; its body was slick with purplish slime, oozing down its body and over Isabelle's. "Give me the Pyxis," it snarled in a thick, wet voice.

"Let her go, then we'll talk," said Jace, taking a cautious step toward the demon. It screeched, tightening its hold on Isabelle. Her lips began to go blue. Jace stopped dead.

"NO!" Simon shouted. "Leave her alone!"

"I want the Pyxis!" the demon shrieked.

_Give it to him,_ hissed Beelzebub's voice inside Clary's head. She swallowed hard, digging her nails into her palms. _Give it to him, or face my wrath._

"All right!" said Simon. "Just don't hurt her!" The demon gave a burbling laugh.

Clary caught Simon's arm. "_Don't give it to him_," she whispered.

_GIVE HIM THE PYXIS,_ snarled Beelzebub's voice.

Simon locked eyes with Clary. "Trust me," he said in a low voice. Then he turned and rushed back into the darkened halls of the Institute.

"There, he's getting it," said Jace, his gaze hard on the demon. "Now let her go!"

"Not until I hold the Pyxis," said the demon, his voice slurping, slime spilling down from its mouth. "Till then, she's mine, mine, mine..." It gave another bubbling laugh, tentacles slithering around Isabelle, sliding down her jaw and neck.

Clary took a step back into the shadows of the entrance hall. She could almost reach the hidden niche—

A tentacle shot through the air, wrapping around her neck. She choked as it yanked her back over the doorstep and tightened around her throat, cutting off her breath.

"NO!" Jace roared, lunging forward, but before he could do anything, something streaked through the sky, burying itself in the demon's head.

It gave a gurgling spasm; then its hold on Clary's throat loosened. She wrenched herself away, gasping for breath, just as the demon pitched backward. Jace leapt forward, seizing Isabelle and pulling her to safety as the demon tumbled down the steps, already beginning to fold in on itself, taking the arrow with it.

Out of nowhere, a scream exploded in Clary's mind, a scream of pure, unadulterated rage, reverberating in her skull. She cried out, clamping her hands over her ears, but the scream went on and on, loud enough to make her head swim, her vision blur.

She was dimly aware of someone calling her name, a question lost to the wind—then darkness claimed her, as swiftly as if someone had snuffed out a candle.

* * *

"Clary!"

Jace, still holding up Isabelle, could only watch as Clary crumpled silently to the ground and lay there, unmoving. Without thinking, he swung Isabelle up into his arms and carried her over the threshold of the Institute, feeling the wards ripple around them. He carefully set her down on the stone floor and went back outside, doing the same with Clary. By the time he laid her down beside Isabelle, Izzy was stirring, moaning softly.

"What happened?" she murmured, trying to sit up. Jace pushed her back down gently.

"Just rest for a minute," he said, pressing two fingers to Clary's throat. He let out a breath of relief as he felt her pulse coursing steadily under the skin.

Isabelle blinked slowly, turning her head to the side. Her eyes widened. "Clary? Holy—"

Rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder. A moment later, Simon dashed around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of them. A bow was slung across his back; he shucked it off as he dropped to his knees beside Isabelle.

"You're awake," he said, sounding relieved. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," said Izzy. Simon nodded. He glanced quickly at Clary, over whom Jace was still leaning.

"I saw Clary fall," he said to Jace in an undertone as he began to check Izzy over for injuries. She batted his hands away.

"I'm _fine_," she insisted. "What happened to Clary?"

"The Pyxis," said Jace shortly. Simon caught his eye; they shared a look. "I'm going to take her to the library," he said, gathering Clary up into his arms.

"Good idea," said Izzy, attempting to stand up. Simon made a small noise of concern, reaching out to help her, but she shook him off, getting to her feet slowly. "Ouch," she said, wincing slightly and shifting her weight onto one leg. "I think I banged my knee."

"Sorry," said Jace, smiling a little despite himself. "I guess I didn't catch you fast enough."

She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm more upset about the Chinese food, to be honest," she said, pouting. "It looked so good..." She sighed. "Freaking demon. I _hate_ sneak attacks."

"You like them when you're the one doing them," Simon pointed out.

"That's because mine don't involve me getting knocked out by a _slime_ demon," said Izzy, pressing a hand to her side and pulling it away; a long string of goop followed her. "_Gross_."

"Why don't you go get cleaned up?" said Jace. "Meet us in the library."

Izzy gave him a mock salute and limped off to the bathroom, Simon hurrying behind her.

Jace tightened his hold on Clary, settling her more securely in his arms. He looked down at her face; it was pale and still. Her cheekbones jutted out prominently, her skin taut against the bone. The circles beneath her eyes looked like bruises, and she seemed pinched and drawn. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was ill.

He sighed, bending his neck to press a kiss to her temple. Then, gritting his teeth, he set off down the corridor.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, next week's is full of stuff, don't worry :) Also, thank you so so much for over 50 follows! I'm so glad so many people are enjoying this story.**

**Much love, and thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Just wanted to clear something up real quick—a couple of people have asked why they don't just move Clary out of the Institute. Remember that at this point, no one knows the full extent of what's going on with Clary, and she's adamant that it stay that way. As far as anyone else knows, Clary's stressed out, but the demon isn't attacking her outright, so there's no reason to move her. Plus they're all currently working out of the Institute to try to find a solution and Clary and Jace have other duties that don't relate to this demon, so it wouldn't really be possible for Clary to leave anyway. Hope that helps—now on with the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

"So," said Isabelle conversationally, "what's going on with Clary?"

She was perched on the counter of the bathroom, the left leg of her pants rolled up to her thigh; her knee was swollen and purplish. Simon examined it carefully.

"You'll probably just need an _iratze_," he said. "But you have a nasty scrape, too. I think we should clean it first." As he went to retrieve a spare hand towel from the shelf, Isabelle pulled her slime-slick hair over her shoulder, accidentally splattering Simon with the residue. He grimaced.

"Oops," she said, laughing. "Sorry."

He shook his head, smiling a little as he ran the towel under warm water and began to dab lightly at the wound. Isabelle winced.

"Ouch," she complained.

He gave a sympathetic smile. "Sorry. I just don't want you to get an infection."

She hummed a response, watching him tend to the wound. "So...Clary?" she prompted.

"I don't know what you mean," said Simon, carefully working the dirt and blood out of the scrape.

"Come on, Simon," Isabelle said exasperatedly. "Jace might be totally in denial, but I'm not. She looks like a freaking corpse." She surveyed him. "Is she okay?"

He hesitated. Ordinarily, he would have told Isabelle the truth; there wasn't anything he hid from her, anything he didn't trust her with. On the other hand, Clary refused to even tell Jace what was going on, and he wasn't sure it was his place to share her secrets.

Finally, Simon nodded, avoiding eye contact with Izzy. "Yeah. She'll be fine," he said, rinsing the towel and squeezing out the excess water.

"Simon," said Isabelle softly, touching his cheek. "You're not still upset about what happened in Morocco, are you?"

He looked at her quickly. "What?" he said. "No. No, of course not."

She pursed her lips. "Are you sure? You're not going to bring it up again in the middle of a fight or something?"

"I make no such promises," said Simon gravely. "Everything's fair game in a fight."

She cracked a smile. "Okay, then. If you're sure you're not mad."

"I'm sure," he said, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair. "Besides, we have bigger issues than that right now."

"Like what?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I think my hand is stuck in your hair."

* * *

Jace paced the length of the library, striding from door to desk and back. Every so often, he would chance a look at Clary; she was lying on the couch, occasionally twitching and gasping. The two Wakefulness runes he'd carved into her wrist had sunk in and disappeared instantly, with no effect.

He reached the desk and turned around just as Simon and Isabelle entered, having cleaned themselves up. Isabelle's hair was damp, clinging to her neck and temples. "How is she?" she said, hurrying over to the couch and kneeling beside Clary. Simon hovered in the doorway, watching his _parabatai_ with apprehension.

"The same," Jace replied shortly, resuming his pacing. Simon's eyes flickered to him, then away again.

"Jace," said Isabelle softly, "she looks really ill. What's been going on? More nightmares?"

Jace shook his head tightly. "She's stressed. She's barely sleeping, barely eating." He dug his nails into his palms. "She might as well be having the nightmares, for all the good it's doing."

"I..." Simon began, before trailing off. Jace looked at him.

"What?" he said.

"Nothing," said Simon. "Never mind."

"_What?"_ Jace said, folding his arms.

"Well..." He rubbed his neck. "Nothing. I was just going to say, I wish we could have been here. To help."

Jace eyed him; he stared back, his gaze a little too defiant. But before Jace could say anything, Clary gasped again, flinching. Then she coughed; something dark splattered the back of the sofa.

Jace darted across the room, kneeling at her side as Isabelle stood, looking sickened. Clary gave another wet cough, blood dribbling down her chin. Jace wiped it away gently.

"Jesus," said Simon faintly. "Has this happened before?" Jace shook his head, not taking his eyes off Clary's face. "Okay, I'm calling the Silent Brothers."

"Don't," said Jace sharply as Simon made for the desk. "You heard what Maryse said. She could lose the baby."

Simon set his jaw, but retreated. Jace turned back to Clary; she drew in a rattling breath, whimpering softly. He bent over her, stroking her hair. "Wake up," he whispered, "Clary, _wake up..._"

* * *

_Pain flared across Clary's body. She jolted awake, sucking in a sharp breath. For a moment, she thought she'd gone blind; then she registered the dark rock above her. When she turned her head to the side, she could see the blurry outline of the mouth of a cave, and beyond it the roiling red sky._

_A furious shriek tore through the air. Something heavy slammed into her side, cracking her head hard against the floor. She struggled to draw breath._

_"Fool!" Beelzebub shrieked, towering over her, his fist drawn back for another blow. She flinched instinctively, curling in on herself. "You think you can defy me? You think you have the right?" His fist came down again, this time crashing down across her ribcage; she coughed, tasting blood. Beelzebub seized her around the throat, lifting her to his eye level. She struggled feebly. "You should have given him the Pyxis," he snarled._

_He flung her; she hit the wall of the cave with enough force to make her vision go nearly black. "You—_you_ sent the demon?" she gasped out._

_His lip curled. "Of course not, idiotic girl," he sneered. "_He_ thinks he can fight me—he thinks he has all the power—he thinks I'm _weak—_but if he frees me—he doesn't know—he doesn't know just how much power I have!" As if to demonstrate, he raised his arms up into the air; the cave exploded outward, the walls crumbling and dissolving, raining red dust onto them. Clary drew in a rasping breath, pushing herself up to sitting even as her limbs shook._

_Beelzebub was breathing heavily; his eyes were wide, gleaming with exhilaration. They darted about, not fixating on anything, as if he were seeing a thousand worlds at once._

_"You're insane," Clary breathed._

_His eyes snapped to her, suddenly laser-focused. "Oh, am I?" he growled. _

_He backhanded her; she crumpled back to the ground, not enough breath in her to even cry out. "You shall pay dearly for your foolishness," he hissed._

_"Go—to—hell," she gasped, pulling herself to her feet with an enormous effort. Anger flared in her, filling her veins with warmth. Beelzebub sneered, reaching out for her—and she moved, ducking between his legs and taking off towards where the opening of the cave had been._

_She skidded to a halt; rocks tumbled down the side of a steep mountain. Her toes were inches from the edge of the cliff, but behind her was Beelzebub—_

_He roared, lunging for her. Before she could think twice, she jumped._

_The wind caught her for a split second; then she fell, tumbling through the air as her stomach lurched—_

Her eyes snapped open. Pain descended on her, amplified outside of the padded corners of the dreamland—she choked immediately, bitter liquid filling her mouth. Her chest spasmed as she coughed and spat out blood.

"Clary?" said a soft voice. Someone was stroking her hair. "It's okay. Try to breathe." She did, closing her eyes; her ribs gave a sharp twinge of pain as she gasped for air.

She felt the tip of a stele gliding across the base of her sternum. Her ribs continued to ache. "I don't think it's working," said Jace's voice again. "Simon, will you try?"

"I'm fine," Clary managed. She forced her eyes open; her eyelids felt glued together. Jace peered back at her, his face pale. "I'm—okay," she said, drawing in shallow breaths. Her whole body ached, her ribs throbbing especially viciously, but already her breathing was getting easier.

"Just let Simon try," Jace said gently. He looked over his shoulder; Simon hastened toward them and knelt beside Clary, taking the stele out of Jace's hand. He looked at her; for a moment, she thought she saw anger written across his face. A pang of guilt shot through her—but then Simon dropped his gaze and traced the stele across the skin below her ribs. She felt nothing. She suppressed another cough.

"Thanks," she said.

"Is it working?"

"Yeah." She forced herself to take in a deep breath, her ribs screaming. "I feel better."

Simon sat back on his heels, exhaling. Jace rubbed his thumb across the back of Clary's hand. "Good," he said. "Just rest for a bit, okay?"

She nodded and shifted slightly, wincing. "Izzy..."

"I'm here," said Isabelle, appearing next to Simon.

"You okay?"

Isabelle smiled softly. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Are you okay?" Clary nodded.

"What happened?" said Jace. "Was it the demon?"

"He..." She hesitated. "He's angry," she said finally. "He wanted us to hand over the Pyxis. I think...I think he might be losing his mind."

There was a soft whisper inside her head, hissing through her skull as she closed her eyes: _You are weak, Clarissa. You may have escaped this time, but you will break, sooner or later. One way or another, I will break you._

_Even better, you will break him._

"Clary," said Jace softly. She felt him brush his fingers against her cheeks; it was only then that she realized she was crying. She felt rather than heard him turn to the others. "Give us some space," he murmured.

Footsteps retreated; when Clary opened her eyes again, she and Jace were alone.

"Feeling okay?" said Jace softly, brushing her hair back. She nodded slowly. He brought their entwined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. "Try to rest."

She nodded again; her eyelids were already drooping, and the pain in her ribs was making her head grow light. There was a tiny knot of fear in her chest, and she heard Beelzebub's words in her head again: _I will break you_. She tried to open her eyes again, but she was so tired...

"Sleep," Jace whispered, and she did.

* * *

When Clary awoke, the library was dark; a sliver of moon peeked through the window, shining just enough light into the room that Clary could make out the form of Jace, sleeping on the floor by the couch. Experimentally, she shifted; her ribs seared with pain, but it was fleeting. They would probably be healed within a few days.

Her throat felt dry; the inside of her mouth still tasted metallic. Grimacing, she sat up, stepped carefully over Jace, and left the library.

She moved slowly down the hallway, trying not to breathe too deeply. At last, she arrived in the moonlit kitchen. She crossed to the sink and filled a glass with water, taking a grateful sip.

"Hello, sister mine."

Her heart stopped beating. The glass slipped from her numb fingers, shattering against the floor, but she hardly heard it over the roar in her ears. Her whole body seemed to have seized, immobilizing her as if her blood had turned to ice. She drew in a long, slow breath, and, heart drumming an irregular rhythm against her ribs once more, she turned around to face the speaker.

Sebastian.

She couldn't call him Jonathan; Jonathan had been her green-eyed brother, the boy who might have been good, but had never gotten the chance to try. Jonathan was a tragedy, but this—this was Sebastian as he had been, eyes like glittering coal, hair shining like broken glass, cruel, twisted smile that grew as he took a step toward her.

_I'm dreaming_, Clary thought, and no sooner had the thought formed in her mind than her body moved instinctively, and she seized up the glass vase on the counter. She brought it down hard on her left arm, not pausing to think; there was a loud crack, and pain exploded up her arm as the vase shattered, spilling water and flowers everywhere. She gave a gasp, clutching her arm to her chest as tears of pain sprang to her eyes. Sebastian smiled at her.

"Your little tricks don't work in the real world, Clary," he said, his voice like honey.

Clary stared at him, her arm pulsing with pain; if this was a dream, she should have woken up. Which meant...

Sebastian moved forward, and Clary felt her muscles tighten; somehow, she had lunged backward and swept up a knife from the counter in a single, fluid motion. "Don't," she gasped, her heart pounding so frantically that she could feel her pulse in her fingers where they locked onto the knife. "Don't come any closer."

"Oh, come on, Clary," said Sebastian, lounging casually against the table. "Can't you pretend you're even a little happy to see me?"

"It isn't you," said Clary, struggling to keep her voice steady. Her arm hurt so badly she could barely think. "You're dead, I—I _killed _you. You're a—an illusion."

Sebastian grinned. "I'm not an illusion," he said.

"I don't—"

"Believe me?" He moved so quickly she didn't see it, and suddenly he was in front of her. His breath stirred her hair, warm on her skin. "Does this feel real to you?" he whispered.

Fire coursed through her, melting the ice in her veins. She drove the knife in her hand upward—but she had never been any match for his speed. He caught her hand easily, twisting it savagely until she gasped in pain, her fingers opening involuntarily. The knife clattered to the ground, and Sebastian gave a low, breathy chuckle.

"You didn't think that would really work, did you?" His fingers were like ice around her wrist, his lips inches from hers. She tried to take a step back and collided with the counter. He followed, pressing himself against her. His free hand came up and snaked around her left wrist; she bit back a cry of pain as he squeezed, grinning at her. She could feel the dark energy coming off his body, his pulse mingling with hers where their bodies touched. She suppressed the urge to vomit.

"What do you want from me, Sebastian?" she said coldly.

His mouth twisted into a smile. "I want you, Clary. I always have."

"You are _not real_," Clary whispered, her voice shaking.

"No?" There was a challenge in his tone, a taunting note. He leaned in toward her, his eyes glittering darkly with a feral desire. His lips brushed against hers, and though she struggled, he only held her tighter, pressed himself closer against her. He brought his lips to hers again—and, standing on tiptoe, she bit down hard on his lip.

He shouted, jerking away from her. Blood dripped down his chin, and Clary could taste it in her own mouth, nauseatingly bitter and dark. "Bitch," he spat, wiping his chin and flicking blood away. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"Tell me," said Clary, snatching up her knife and pointing it at his heart, "why you are here."

When he grinned, she could see black blood on his teeth. "That child could have been mine, you know," he said, his eyes glinting hungrily.

Clary's breath hitched. Without conscious thought, she had moved her arm across her stomach. "You—you're here for the baby?"

"Imagine how strong it could be, with our strengthened bloodline," said Sebastian, swiftly flicking the knife out of her hand for a second time and taking a step toward her. "It would be a fierce warrior, ruthless—indestructible."

"You're not indestructible," said Clary quietly. "I killed you."

"And yet, here I am," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Nothing is as impossible as you would like to believe." He took another step, closing the distance between them, and slid his hand over her stomach, interlocking his fingers with hers. "Can you feel it, Clary? Can you feel my blood—_our _blood—in this child?"

She felt it then, felt a deadening cold spreading from her stomach, felt the wrongness in its energy. Her breath hitched again, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

Sebastian stooped, picking up the knife. He pressed it into her hand and her fingers curled automatically around it. "Can you bring yourself to destroy it, Clary?" he asked softly.

Her hand moved of its own volition, turning the blade inward against her. Her body felt numb, her mind stifled and foggy. She couldn't think, couldn't control her movements; something about this was very, very wrong, but as the point of the knife pierced her shirt she couldn't grasp what it was. Though her hand was steady, the rest of her was shaking, her face was damp—Sebastian's pupils were blown wide, exhilaration and burning curiosity visible in them. Clary's fingers tightened—

"Clary?"

It was as if a spell had been broken. The knife clattered to the ground, skittering under the counter. The kitchen was suddenly bathed in witchlight, blinding Clary; in the instant that she blinked, Sebastian vanished like mist blowing away in the wind, his cruel grin lingering for a fraction of a second. Clary stood there, shaking from head to toe. Her arm throbbed painfully—and so did her feet, though she wasn't sure why.

"Clary." Golden eyes appeared in her vision. "Are you okay?" Jace said. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I think I have," said Clary, barely audibly.

"What?" Jace moved toward her, then stopped in his tracks, glancing down. "Clary, what happened?"

She followed his gaze. She was standing in the broken glass, her blood clouding across the water in slow, lazy plumes of smoky red. Deftly, Jace stepped between the pieces of glass and scooped her up, carrying her across the kitchen and depositing her gently in a chair. He propped up her feet on another chair and crossed the kitchen again, returning with a small first-aid kit. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and began to pluck glass out of her feet. "What happened?" he asked again.

"Did you see him?" Clary whispered. She felt cold and numb, as if moving would cause her to shatter completely.

"What did you say?" said Jace, stopping his work for a moment to search her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Clary's hand had found its way to her stomach. Her shirt felt damp; she brought her fingers away to find them smeared with blood. Jace followed her gaze, his eyes widening. "Clary, are you hurt? Is the baby—are you okay?"

"I—"

_You will break him._

Clary took a deep breath. "I must have fallen asleep on my feet for a second. I knocked over a vase, and I accidentally cut myself. I'm fine."

Jace relaxed slightly. "You were supposed to be resting."

"I just got up for a glass of water," she said. He sighed and went back to picking glass out of her feet, and she let the repetitive movement soothe her even as her feet prickled with pain. With the adrenaline now draining out of her, her ribs were beginning to throb again. She pushed the pain aside; her mind was a maelstrom of thoughts, flying so fast she could hardly keep up.

Nightmares had turned into hallucinations, illusions so realistic she could touch and feel them, so powerful they could convince her to kill her own child. A shudder ran through her; she had almost done it, had been unable to control her own hands, had been powerless to stop it. Jace had shown up this time, but what if it happened again and she couldn't stop herself?

"Clary?"

His fingers wrapped around her left hand, jostling the arm; she cried out before she could stop herself. Jace jerked back.

"What's wrong?" he said, looking alarmed.

"Nothing," she said, forcing herself to remain calm even as her arm smarted and throbbed.

Jace narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with your arm?" he said, his voice dangerously low.

"I said it's nothing," Clary said, moving her arm away from him. "I just banged it, that's all."

"Let me see it."

"It's fine!"

He reached for her; she scrambled away from him, pushing her chair back and standing up, but she had forgotten about her feet. Pain flared up in them, and she staggered, instinctively catching herself on the table with her left hand. Her arm collapsed, and Jace caught her, lowering her back into the chair.

"Damn it, Clary, just let me—"

"Don't!"

He pulled her sleeve back before she could stop him. The harsh witchlight brought the bruises on her arm into stark relief, the freshest ones rust-colored, deepening to indigo against the canvas of old mossy greens and yellows. Clary yanked her arm away, tugging the sleeve back down, but it was too late. Jace stared down at her, his mouth half-open.

"I'm fine," Clary said, before he could speak. "Like I said, I just banged it."

"Don't," said Jace, his voice rough. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not—"

"How long?"

She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. "What?"

"How long has this been going on?" Jace demanded, flinging the words at her. "How long have you been having the nightmares again?"

"It's not from the—"

"_Don't lie to me!"_ Jace bellowed. Clary's breath hitched. She had never seen him look at her like that before, filled with such rage. Rage...and betrayal.

She took a breath before answering. "The nightmares never stopped."

There was a long, horrible silence.

"You've been keeping this from me," said Jace, shaking, "for _weeks_?"

Clary didn't answer. The silence stretched on between them.

"How could you?" said Jace finally.

She looked down at her hands. "I've been sleeping in the library—"

"No," Jace said. "How _could_ you?"

She glanced up at him; he didn't look angry anymore. His face was a mask, utterly blank—but his eyes were shining.

Clary opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She didn't know what to say to him, how to make up for this. She tried to speak again; instead, a tangle of emotions welled up in her, and she crumpled in on herself, dissolving into tears.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry..." Her whole body shuddered as she cried uncontrollably, the pent-up fear and pain rushing out of her in a tidal wave. Each sob made her ribs pound with pain, but she couldn't stop crying now that she had begun. There was a creak of wood as Jace sat down beside her. She leaned forward, resting her head on his chest as she sobbed.

"I can't—" she gasped, "I can't do it anymore—"

"Do what?" said Jace softly, stroking her hair.

"_This_," she burst out. She put her hand over her stomach. "I—can't..."

"Shh," Jace whispered. "It's okay."

He held her as the minutes went by. Slowly, her sobs subsided.

"Clary," he said quietly, once she had calmed down. "You know I'm with you on this. And...and if you want it to stop...do you?"

She stared down at the floor. "I don't know," she whispered. "Maybe. No. I don't..."

"It's okay," Jace said. He put his fingers under her chin, gently lifting it so her eyes met his. "It's okay to choose yourself."

"But I'm not choosing," said Clary. Her eyes felt raw, stinging painfully as more tears filled them. "He's forcing me. If none of this was happening, I'd want the baby."

"But it is happening," Jace said softly.

She shook her head violently. "No," she said, her voice thick. "It isn't _fair._ I—I want him."

"I know," said Jace tenderly. "So do I. But this is destroying you, Clary."

"I want him," Clary repeated, sniffling as she looked back at Jace. "The demon shouldn't get to take him away."

Jace stroked his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear. "I wish it were that simple."

There was another moment of silence. Clary leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I just didn't want you to worry. I...I didn't want you to..."

"I know," Jace said softly. "It's okay. And I'm sorry I yelled at you." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "But no more sleeping in the library, okay?"

She exhaled. "Okay."

He kissed the top of her head. "Now let me fix your arm." She held it out to him as he pulled a stele out of the first-aid kit. He drew the tip of it across her forearm, inking the _iratze_ there. She felt a prickling pain as the bones shifted back into place.

"Better?" said Jace. She nodded. He kissed her knuckles before gently taking hold of her legs and propping them on his thighs. He retrieved the tweezers and resumed his work on her feet. "We have to be a team on this, Clary," he said softly, picking out a piece of glass and dropping it on the table. "I know you're scared of hurting me. But lying about what's going on doesn't help, okay?"

Clary didn't answer; she had just seen a flicker of movement behind Jace, someone leaning against the sink. There was the silver flash of a grin; Clary blinked, and it vanished.

"Clary?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes snapping back to Jace. He was watching her inquisitively. "I—you're right. No more lying."

"Good." He pulled the last few pieces of glass out of the soles of her feet and took up the stele again. As he bent over to heal her, she chanced a glance at the sink again; Sebastian smiled at her, wiggling his fingers. She swallowed, hard.

"All better." Jace set the stele down, closing the kit. "Let's go to bed, okay?"

She nodded tightly. He helped her to her feet; they were still slightly sore. As they walked out of the kitchen, hand-in-hand, Clary heard Sebastian's soft laughter behind them, so quiet she could almost pretend it was the wind.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I know everyone's a little annoyed that Clary won't just tell everyone what's going on, but there's a method to my madness, I swear! Just keep reading and all will be revealed :)**

**If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! I would love it if we could get to 50 reviews before the end of Part I (which is coming up soon...)**

**As always, thanks so much for reading!**

**~4L**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"Hey, this is interesting," said Simon, leaning over to show Clary a passage of his book. "There's a spell here that creates a pentagram strong enough to hold five lesser demons. That might work, right?"

"That _is_ interesting," Sebastian said, propping his chin on his hand next to Clary. His breath stirred Clary's hair.

It had been a week since Sebastian had first appeared in the kitchen, and he hadn't left. Clary would awaken from her nightmares only to find herself face-to-face with Sebastian; sometimes, she could hardly tell the difference between dreams and reality.

Sebastian smiled at her, his tongue flicking the edge of his teeth. Clary, clenching her jaw, ignored him. "It also requires a human sacrifice," she pointed out to Simon, indicating a paragraph further down.

"Oh," said Simon, sounding disappointed.

"Not like you've never killed someone before, though," Sebastian said in a low voice. "Namely, me." He chuckled. "I've always said you had a dark heart in you." His nail scraped her cheek. She flinched.

"Hey," Simon said, looking closely at her. "You okay?"

Sebastian grinned at her.

"I'm fine," she said sharply. Simon's brow furrowed. "Sorry," she added stiffly. "Just—we should keep looking."

She turned back to her own book. Sebastian drummed his fingers on the table beside it.

"I don't know why you're bothering with all this," he said, waving a hand lazily at the stacks of books on the table. "You know you can't win, right? And even if you did," he added, dropping his voice, "what makes you think I'll leave?"

Clary gave a measured exhale, looking around the table. Izzy was poring over her own book, entirely absorbed; Luke was pointing something out to Jocelyn on the scroll he was reading, but she didn't look much encouraged. And Jace was sitting across from Clary, his shoulders hunched as his eyes flickered quickly over the dense text in front of him. Clary let her eyes linger on him for a moment, noticing how his hair was falling in his eyes; he was due for a haircut.

Since that night in the kitchen, she had gone back to sleeping in the same bed as Jace. He woke her from her nightmares each night; she knew he was getting less sleep than her, but he insisted on watching over her every night. She, in turn, insisted that he nap during the day, which he reluctantly did, joining them in the afternoon to research. Part of her wished she had never told him about the nightmares, if only so that at least one of them could be sleeping through the night. She saw the look on his face every time he woke her up, her own pain mirrored in his eyes, and hated Beelzebub for what this was doing to him.

"Oh, that's right," Sebastian drawled. "You _love_ him. Funny, the things you people do in the name of love. Destroy yourselves, destroy each other..." He leaned in, his breath warm on her neck. "I hope I get to watch you tear his heart out," he whispered.

She leapt to her feet, breathing hard with anger. The others glanced at her. Sebastian laughed softly.

"What's up?" said Jace, looking at her with concern.

"I—" she began, but before she could finish, the library doors burst open, giving way to Alec and Magnus.

"We've got it!" Magnus said, brandishing a piece of worn parchment.

"Magnus, please be careful with that, it's very—" said Alec, but Magnus crossed the room in two strides and slammed the parchment down in the center of the table. Alec groaned softly. The others stood hastily and crowded around the parchment.

"Here," said Magnus, jabbing his finger at a complicated diagram. "It's technically two spells that have been combined to generate more power. I hadn't thought of it because combining spells is usually tricky and temperamental, but this could actually work."

"How many times has it been successfully done before?" Simon asked, poring over the parchment.

Alec hesitated. "That we know of? Once."

They all stared at him. "But Magnus says the theory checks out," Alec added hurriedly. "And it's definitely powerful enough to hold a Greater Demon for several minutes."

"But will it work against a Prince of Hell?" said Jocelyn, sounding worried.

"I think so," Magnus said.

"_Think_ so?" said Simon sharply. "What do you mean, you—"

"Look," Magnus said, cutting him off. "This is the best thing we've found in weeks. I'm telling you, it should work. Now, we could keep looking for something better, but as long as the demon is here, he's getting more powerful. I think we need to use this spell—before it's too late."

There was a long beat of silence. Many of the eyes around the table turned to Clary. She stared down at the parchment.

"I trust Magnus," she said, breaking the silence. "If he thinks it'll work, I say we should do it."

"Okay," said Jace. There was a breath of relief around the table. "We have most of these ingredients here at the Institute," he said, pointing at the scrawled list of items at the bottom of the parchment. "The rest we can get from the apothecary. Let's split up and gather everything we'll need—weapons, too."

"Weapons?" said Isabelle, frowning. "Isn't the whole point that he'll be trapped?"

"It never hurts to be armed," said Jace darkly. He rolled up the parchment and pressed it into Simon's hands. "You two go to the apothecary now, before it gets dark." Simon nodded and set off at once, Isabelle at his side.

Amid the flurry of movement, Clary sank into her chair. She felt light with relief; it was almost over. Finally, she would be free.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," said Sebastian, pulling a dagger out of his belt and toying with it. He spun it around his fingers expertly. "Maybe you'll just end up freeing Beelzebub instead. He's more powerful than you think, you know. You won't defeat him that easily."

Clary stared at him; the dagger twirled between his fingers, catching the light, making something tug at the edge of Clary's mind...

"Paper," she said suddenly, startling the others into silence. "Paper and pencil, quickly!"

Jace hurried to the desk, snatched up a notepad and pen, and thrust them into Clary's hands. She bent over the notepad, sketching out the rune that had just come to her mind. She felt the others gathering around her.

"What is it?" said Jace, once she had finished and sat back. She exhaled slowly; the rune was comprised of smooth, curving lines, swirling and overlapping each other to form an intricate design. It spoke to her of something deeply and inexplicably powerful.

"I think..." Clary pondered it for a moment. "Do you have a seraph blade?"

"Here," said Alec, handing her an inactive blade, a thin tube of _adamas_. She turned it over in her hands, twirling it as Sebastian had. Then she pulled out her stele, inking the rune at the base of the tube.

"Oh," Jocelyn breathed as the _adamas_ glowed with an icy energy. It shone for a moment, resembling a witchlight; then the light faded until the tube looked ordinary again, albeit with the new rune pulsing at its base.

"What does it do?" Jace said.

"I'm not sure," said Clary. She hesitated before handing the seraph blade to Jace. "Take it with you, okay? I think it'll protect you somehow."

He smiled and tucked the blade into his pocket. "Thanks," he said, kissing the top of her head.

Clary looked up as the others resumed their preparations; Sebastian was staring at her, his gaze hard and full of rage.

"Why are you smiling?" Jace asked her.

She looked at him. "Because," she said, "I think we're going to win."

Jace reached out, curling a lock of her hair around his finger. "Look, I know you're going to want to come—"

She shook her head. "I'm a weakness," she said baldly. "The second he has a chance, he'll try to hurt me. I don't want you worrying about that."

He let his hand fall from her hair, weaving his fingers through hers. "It'll all be over soon," he said softly. "He'll be gone."

"I know," said Clary, and her voice broke with relief. Jace brushed his lips against her knuckles. Clary gave a shaky exhale. "Now go get ready," she said, releasing him. He gave her a fleeting smile before turning and leaving the library. Clary stood slowly, stretching her aching muscles. Her left arm throbbed slightly, and she rubbed it ruefully.

"You've looked better, biscuit," said a voice behind her. She turned; Magnus was surveying her.

She smiled wearily. "I'll feel better once this is all over."

"Sure you will," said Sebastian lightly, perching on the table. "But maybe..." He leaned closer, so that she could see the sunlight reflected in his dark eyes. "Maybe all that ends today will be your darling husband's life...how will you feel then?"

Clary jerked away. "I—will you excuse me?" she said to Magnus. "I just need—bathroom. I'll be right back."

She sped out of the room before Magnus could say anything. Her heart was pounding; she hated it, hated that Sebastian wasn't real and could still make her jump, make her flinch in fear. He was right, in a way; he was dead and still haunting her. What made her think it would be any different once Beelzebub was gone? He would still haunt her dreams, still be with her even once the demon had left.

"Pity," said Sebastian, falling into step beside her. "I really thought you were made of stronger stuff." He flicked a tear away from her cheek. "But then, you've always been this weak, haven't you?"

"Leave me alone," she muttered, shoving past him and doubling her pace.

"Or what?" he hissed, catching up to her easily.

"_Leave me alone!_" She broke into a run down the hallway, throwing herself into the bathroom and bolting the door. She sank down against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Well, it's not as if locks can keep me out," said Sebastian idly, picking at his nails as he lounged against the sink. "You do know I'm a hallucination, right? I'm _in your mind_."

"Yeah, I'd figured that out, thanks," Clary snapped. She was shaking with rage.

Sebastian clicked his tongue. "If I didn't know better, sweetheart, I'd say you were going crazy."

Clary closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. _It's almost over,_ she reminded herself. _Just a few more hours. I can get through a few more hours of this._

"Definitely going crazy," said Sebastian, with humor in his voice.

"Shut up," said Clary, opening her eyes. She got to her feet and unbolted the door, striding back out into the corridor. Sebastian followed.

"You're pathetic," he scoffed. She made a noise of frustration and changed direction, taking the right fork of the hallway. "You haven't won anything yet."

"Yeah?" Clary said, storming down the next corridor and making a sharp left. "Is that why you're trying to provoke me? Because if _I_ didn't know better, Sebastian, I'd say you were scared. Which means _he_ is."

"Scared?" Sebastian said, grinning. "Believe me, darling, I've got you just where I want you."

"What's that supposed to—"

She stopped dead several feet from the base of a spiral staircase. A cold energy was washing over her, freezing her in place. She tried to open her mouth, but it wouldn't move. Slowly, her feet began to move forward of their own accord.

_Let me go,_ she thought furiously, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sebastian laugh and then vanish. She continued to walk forward; it felt as if something had taken control of her limbs, pulling them toward the staircase in sharp, jerky movements. She struggled against the strange, cold force; her fingers twitched.

_STOP IT!_

Her heart was beginning to pound furiously. She thought she knew what might be at the top of that staircase, what might be pulling her so keenly toward it. She hadn't been near the Pyxis in weeks, and now...

Her fingers twitched again. With a gargantuan effort, she focused all her energy on moving her left arm. Slowly, the elbow began to bend, her fingers latching onto the banister of the staircase just as her feet reached the first step.

_Don't fight it, Clarissa,_ said a hissing voice in her head. _You won't win against me._

As she watched in horror, her feet began to move up the staircase. She clutched the banister harder; as her feet reached the third step, she felt a series of strange popping sensations in her fingers, and they released the banister involuntarily. Dread washed over her. She tried to move her fingers again—nothing.

_LET ME GO!_ The words were a silent cry inside her head. She jerked against the force again; her right elbow smacked against her belt, dislodging her stele. It clattered to the ground, rolling away down the hallway.

_Lost your only weapon,_ said Beelzebub's voice, sounding amused. _Now what will you do?_

A fog seemed to be descending on her; it was as if she were looking at the world through the wrong end of a telescope, everything very far away. She continued to ascend the staircase, climbing up in silence. It felt as if she were locked away inside herself, beating her fists against the inside of her own mind.

She had reached the top of the steps, emerging into the garden. On a small table sat the Pyxis, glowing more brightly than she had ever seen it. As if in a dream, she saw her own hand reach out, fingering the latch with a gentle care.

Her thumb slid across; the latch opened, and darkness engulfed her.

* * *

"I can't believe it's almost over," said Isabelle.

They were walking along the sidewalk. Simon glanced at Isabelle; she looked weary and care-worn. He didn't think he looked much better; they had spent the last several days at the Institute, buried in research. Simon tried to remember the last time he had showered, and was alarmed to realize that he _couldn't_ remember. He sniffed himself surreptitiously; Isabelle gave him a strange look, and he pushed the thought aside.

"I know," he said. "It's weird, isn't it? All these weeks of reading every book in the library, and Magnus finds the answer in his living room."

"Well, he _is_ a warlock," said Izzy, looking at him sideways. "Demons and spells are kind of his thing. He was probably the most likely of all of us to find it. I mean, I didn't even know what I was looking for half the time."

"Yeah, but I was still hoping I'd be the one to find it," said Simon, grinning.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You and your damn hero complex," she said, shaking her head.

"We're Shadowhunters," Simon pointed out. "Don't we all have a hero complex?"

"Some of us more than others," said Isabelle wryly. "I mean, look at Jace."

Simon laughed—and as he did, his left forearm gave a strange twinge of pain. His hand flew to it.

"What?" said Isabelle, all the humor dying from her voice. "What's wrong?"

Simon massaged his arm. "Nothing," he said. "I just—"

He gasped as his _parabatai_ rune seared with pain. Isabelle caught him as he staggered. It felt as if something were yanking viciously at him, tearing at the bond between him and Clary. He pushed up his sleeve, pressing his shaking fingers to the rune; they came away smudged with a strange, ashy substance the color of blood.

"Clary," he choked, turning back toward the Institute. They took off at a run.

* * *

"Okay, I'm ready," said Jace, striding back into the library with an armful of weapons and a heavy tote bag slung over his shoulder. He dumped the weapons on the table by the door; it creaked ominously. "Here," he added, pulling the bag off his shoulder and handing it to Magnus. "That's all the ingredients I could find. Simon and Izzy should be—"

At that moment, there was a loud commotion outside the doors; a few seconds later, Simon and Isabelle burst in, empty-handed and breathing hard.

"Where's the—" Jace began, but Simon cut him off.

"Clary," he said without preamble, clutching at his arm. "Something's wrong with Clary."

"What do you mean, wrong?" said Jocelyn, her voice rising, but Jace had already taken off. Simon and Isabelle followed him.

"Split up!" he shouted at them, dashing down the corridor. They branched off on either side of him. "CLARY!" Jace yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls. "CLAR—"

He skidded to a stop; something was shining against the wall, glinting in the witchlight. He dashed over to it and scooped it up, recognizing it as Clary's stele.

"Clever girl," he muttered. He spun around in a slow circle, catching sight of the metal staircase at the end of the hallway. He felt a thrill of horror—_the Pyxis_.

Swallowing against his dry throat, he made his way to the staircase and began to ascend it. His heart pounded more frantically with every step, until at last he had reached the top. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The sunlight was dim here, obscured by the overgrown plants; with Hodge gone, the garden had long since fallen into disarray. In the shadows of a tall, leafy plant stood Clary, giving him a crooked smile.

"Clary," Jace began, moving toward her—and then he stopped dead. She smiled wider, her eyes glinting—they were a dull, bloody red.

"Hello, Jace."

His stomach turned over. It was Clary's voice; but underneath it was something darker, a scraping noise like metal on metal, grating through Clary's vocal cords. She blinked at him, her eyes flickering like fire.

"Beelzebub," said Jace quietly.

Her smile grew. "Miss me?"

Jace glanced to the side table, where he had left the Pyxis so many weeks ago; the box looked entirely ordinary, a useless hunk of metal without the demon inside it. He inched toward it, keeping his eyes on Clary, but she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"You wouldn't be thinking of putting me back in there, would you?" she crooned, spinning something in her right hand; the fingers of her left hand hung at crooked angles. "You could try, of course. But I just might kill your sweet little wife before you can." She held something up, twirling it deftly between her fingers: a knife, like the ones Hodge had once used to trim dead leaves. It was rusty now, having been disused for nearly a decade.

Clary grinned at him, positioning the blade over her heart. "Are you willing to lose her?" she said, cocking her head. Jace took a step away from the Pyxis, and Clary gave a little huff of laughter. "Of course not," she said, moving toward him. "You'd never give her up, even if it meant killing me. You mortals are so predictable. Willing to do anything for _love_." The last word was a derisive sneer.

"Let her go," said Jace, his voice shaking slightly. "You don't want to hurt her."

"You're right," said Clary thoughtfully. She spun the knife between her forefinger and thumb; Jace saw a bead of blood trickle down her chest, disappearing into the neck of her shirt. "I've never really cared about her. What I really wanted was _you_."

She smiled as Jace felt the blood drain from his face. "Why do you think she's been having nightmares all this time? Why do you think I've been torturing her?" She took another step toward Jace. "It's because of _you_," she said, her voice deadly low. "All this time, it's been _your fault_."

"No—" The word was a strangled gasp. "She said—"

"Well, she _would_ say it wasn't your fault, wouldn't she?" said Clary dismissively. "But she knew from the beginning. The only reason I attacked her is because you gave me the opportunity. You trapped me in that Pyxis—" She jerked her chin toward it. "And I took my revenge. Tell me," she added, smiling malevolently, "has it destroyed you? Knowing you were the cause of _her_ destruction?"

"I didn't—it wasn't—"

"All those weeks," Clary drawled, sitting in one hip, "and she was being tortured right in front of you. Her mind breaking apart, bit by bit. I sent her nightmares, hallucinations... How does it feel, Jace?" Her voice was a harsh whisper now. "How does it feel to know she went through it all because of you?"

Jace swallowed hard. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Clary, the real Clary:

_Promise me you won't blame yourself, no matter what happens._

Clary grinned at him. "You know I'm telling the truth."

He let out a shaky exhale. "Clary," he said softly. "I know you're in there. Fight him. _Fight him_. You can do it. You've done it for weeks."

"Oh, she's fighting," said Clary, her lip curling derisively. "But she won't win. I'm far too powerful for her."

"Fight him," Jace whispered again, taking a step forward. Clary's smile turned into a snarl; he saw her push the knife in an inch. Jace froze. For a moment, Clary's face crumpled; she gave a cry, and Jace saw the red flicker to green, Clary's terrified eyes peeking out at him—but then her expression smoothed, the red bleeding into her eyes once more.

"Well, this has certainly been fun," she said in a bored voice, "but I'm growing tired of these games. Shall I just kill her now?" Jace's heartbeat thudded in his ears. "Or maybe," she said, her smile growing, "I can destroy you both at once." She pulled the knife out of her chest and a thin stream of blood dribbled down it. Her hand moved lower until the point was positioned against her lower belly. Jace's breath hitched.

"You can't," he said, his heartbeat quickening. "The moment you kill him, you lose your power over her."

"I don't need it anymore," said Clary, running her nail across the blade of the knife. Rust scraped off, falling to the ground like bloodied snowflakes. "Now that I am free from the Pyxis, I can do whatever I like. And killing this little creature—" She ran her fingertips across her stomach, and Jace felt a wave of nausea— "will hurt you both the most."

The knife began to sink in.

"Fight him!" Jace shouted in desperation. "Clary, _fight him!_"

"She can't hear you!" Clary cackled. "She has no power here—_I _am in control!"

"Yeah?" said Jace, with a quiet triumph. "Then why are you crying?"

Her brow furrowed. She lifted her other hand to her face, touching it lightly; when she drew it away, he could see the tears glistening on her fingertips.

"I know you're in there, Clary," said Jace softly. "You can do this. You are the strongest person I know."

"She is _not strong enough!"_ Clary shrieked. "_I am—I am—"_

With a forceful movement, her arm jerked forward, as if she were going to drive the knife in—and then it stopped. Clary let out a growl of frustration, but something very strange was happening to her arm: it was trembling, jerking back and forth. Blood bloomed against her shirt.

"_No_," she snarled. Jace saw her knuckles tighten on the knife, turning white. Her eyes flickered green for a moment.

"Fight him, Clary," Jace whispered.

The dagger quivered in her hand. Her chest was heaving, pupils shrinking and dilating wildly, red eclipsing white, green appearing and being swallowed by darkness. Then, she gave an unearthly shriek; as it grew, Jace heard Clary's voice fighting its way to dominance, drowning out the scrape of Beelzebub's voice until he could only hear her. Her arm moved; she flung the knife away. In an instant, Jace lunged forward, snatching up the Pyxis and opening it.

Something forced Clary backward; her back arched, arms flinging out wide as her head cracked backward. A thick stream of red smoke erupted from her mouth with a blast of sound and wind, pouring into the Pyxis. It took all of Jace's strength to hang onto it as it vibrated furiously, growing hotter beneath his fingers, wind whipping his hair around his face. Then the last of the smoke flooded out of Clary and into the box, and it slammed shut, the wind dying away, leaving the room entirely silent.

For a moment, Clary stared at him with tear-filled green eyes; and then, as if something had been holding her up and had suddenly released her, she slumped to the floor without a sound.

"No—Clary—" Jace staggered forward, tossing the Pyxis aside as he fell to his knees beside her. He drew her into his arms, laying her across his lap. She was utterly still. "Clary," he whispered again, his voice cracking. "_Please_."

He crumpled over her and began to sob.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! As always, thanks for reading :)**

**~4L**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"She'll be okay," Simon said, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Jace spared him a glance as he passed the bench Simon was sitting on; Jace was pacing the hallway outside the infirmary, his footsteps sharp and clipped. He counted his paces as he went: _five-hundred-four, five-hundred-five, five-hundred-six..._

"Jace," said Isabelle wearily from the floor, "stop pacing. It's making us all anxious."

Jace ignored her. _Five-hundred-nine, five-ten, five-eleven..._

He glanced up as he reached the end of the hallway; Jocelyn and Luke sat there, both white-faced, clutching each other's hands like lifelines. Jace swallowed and turned back around. _Five-fifteen, five-sixteen, five-seventeen..._

"She'll be okay," Simon said again.

"Will you stop saying that?" Jace snapped, rounding on him. "You don't know!"

"Well, I have to believe it!" said Simon angrily. "At least I'm not driving us all crazy by pacing back and forth—"

"Stop fighting," said Isabelle, sounding exhausted. "It won't do anyone any good."

Jace glared at Simon for a moment longer before resuming his pacing. _Five-twenty-two, five-twenty-three, five-twenty-four..._

"Any news?" said Alec as he approached. He sounded anxious.

Jace shook his head. "What's going on with the Pyxis?"

"Nothing, thankfully," said Magnus, joining them. "The demon's trapped in there. He won't be able to get out. I think he must have lured Clary upstairs somehow and forced her to open it. As long as none of us opens it again, he's stuck."

Jace nodded tersely and began to pace again. _Five-twenty-six, five-twenty-seven..._

"Jace, for the love of Raziel—" Isabelle began.

"What?" he snapped at her. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stop _pacing_!"

"I can't!" he shouted.

"Why not?" she said exasperatedly.

"Because _this is all my fault!"_ He turned around and punched the wall, hard; there was a loud cracking noise, and bits of stone crumbled down. He wrenched his fist back, breathing heavily. His knuckles were already beginning to turn purple and swell.

"Let me see it," said Alec resignedly, reaching out to him, but he jerked back.

"No. Leave it alone." He began to pace again; he'd lost count. _One...two...three..._

"Jace," said Isabelle softly. "You know this isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is," he said in a hard voice. "The demon told me as much. I trapped him in that Pyxis, and he attacked her. He only did it to hurt me." He gave a hollow laugh. "And she took it. For _weeks_. She was trying to protect me. And now she might—" His throat tightened around the words. He swallowed with difficulty and picked up his pace, striding down the corridor. _Thirteen, fourteen..._

"Jace," Isabelle said again. "Look at me."

He turned around, slowing to a stop. She approached him; for a moment, he thought she might hug him. But then she raised her hand and slapped him full across the face, hard enough to make his neck crick. There was an exclamation from the others. Jocelyn's hands flew up to cover her mouth.

"Pull yourself together," Isabelle snapped. "You think you get to wallow in a pit about this? She was _trying to protect you!_ Are you going to let all that be in vain? Are you going to let this asshole demon get _exactly what he wanted_?"

Jace stared at her, aghast. His cheek was stinging painfully. He had never seen Isabelle like this; she was breathing hard, her face flushed.

"N-no," he said finally.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Good. I knew you had some sense in that pea-sized brain of yours." She stormed away, flopping onto the bench beside Simon. He scooched away from her, looking slightly terrified.

At that moment, the infirmary doors opened. Jace sprang forward as Brother Enoch emerged, lowering his hood.

"Well?" Jace said, his voice tight.

_She is alive_.

There was a collective breath of relief; Jocelyn turned to Luke and buried her face in his shoulder, her body shaking.

"Wait," said Jace sharply, looking up into the Silent Brother's expressionless face. "What else?"

Brother Enoch hesitated for a moment before speaking again. _She is still asleep. There is something dark in her, tethering her to unconsciousness. Some remnant of demonic presence. It is clinging to her very soul—any attempt to extract it would likely prove fatal._

"So—" Jace struggled to understand. "So what happens now? How do we get it out of her?"

Brother Enoch said nothing.

"Oh," Jace said, his voice hollow.

_This is a battle only Clary can fight. It is possible she may be able to cleave herself of the demon. _

"Right," said Jace numbly. "Possible."

Brother Enoch regarded him with something like pity. _Do not lose hope, _he said. _She may yet endure._

Jace nodded tightly. "And..." His throat closed on the question.

_The child is still alive and unharmed,_ said Brother Enoch, answering what was unasked. _If Clary survives, she will likely be able to carry to term._

"Great," said Jace. His own voice sounded very far away. There was a pulsing drumbeat in his ears. "That's—good. Awesome."

The Silent Brother surveyed him. _Clary's body and mind show signs of prolonged torture. _Jace flinched at the word. _Was the Clave informed of the demon and its effect on her?_

"No," Jace said shortly.

_Why not?_

"Because you would have made her get an abortion," Jace said, looking straight into Brother Enoch's impassive face. "Wouldn't you?"

_To allow a Prince of Hell access to a prominent Shadowhunter's mind—_

"So that's a yes," said Jace. His temper was beginning to boil; it felt good to feel _something_. "And I don't suppose it would matter if I told you that she wanted to keep the baby, no matter what happened to her?"

_The Clave needed to know that one of their leaders' minds was open to influence from a Prince of Hell,_ said Brother Enoch. _There is no telling how much information he has gained about our world in this past month. And Clary has suffered when she did not need to._

Something inside Jace snapped. "Don't pretend this is about her suffering," he spat. "All you and the Clave care about is controlling what everyone else does. The demon's been sitting in the Institute for a month. Even without Clary, he would have been learning about our world. You want to act like you have some sort of control over anything that goes wrong, so you just grab the first thing you see, the easy answer. You'd have forced her to have an abortion even if she begged you not to, and the demon would still be here. So you can go to hell, for all I care."

"Jace!" Isabelle gasped, but he gave the Silent Brother one last piercing look before turning on his heel and striding down the corridor.

"Jace?" Isabelle said again, hurrying after him. "What—where are you going?"

"I'm going to kill the demon," said Jace savagely, turning a sharp right.

"Um," said Isabelle. "You _can't _kill him. Isn't that kind of the whole point?"

"Well, 'I'm going to banish him' doesn't have quite the same dramatic flair." He arrived in front of the elevator and punched the down button. There was a loud clank as it began to ascend.

"Jace, wait," said Isabelle, catching at his arm. "Don't you think you should—"

"Look, Magnus is right. The demon is only getting stronger," said Jace flatly. "It's time to get rid of him, once and for all." He prodded the button again, impatiently. "I'm going. Tell everyone to meet me downstairs."

She bit her lip. "Okay."

She squeezed his arm before releasing him and turning back. He watched her go, her long hair swinging as she turned the corner.

His hands were shaking; he thrust them into his pockets, balling them into fists. His left hand closed around the seraph blade in his pocket; he squeezed it, relishing in the pain as his bruised knuckles split open. He could feel the edges of Clary's rune against his palm. Distantly, he wondered if it might be the last rune she ever drew.

_Don't be so morbid,_ said a voice in his head that sounded very much like Isabelle's. He shoved it aside as the elevator arrived, the grate clattering aside. He stepped in and slammed his fist against the button for the ground level, his knuckles stinging and smarting.

* * *

A little while later, Alec and Magnus joined Jace in the library just as he was pulling on the last of his gear.

"Brother Enoch won't tell the Clave," Alec informed Jace. "He said it doesn't matter now, since we're about to get rid of the demon anyway. Though I don't think he's pleased with you."

"Good," Jace said.

Alec gave him a searching look before turning away. "Are you sure we shouldn't wait until morning?" he asked Magnus. "The sun might give us an advantage."

"I doubt it," said Magnus, hoisting the duffel bag Jace had brought down onto a table and rummaging through its contents. "Sunlight wouldn't have affected him much anyway—he's a Prince of Hell. He was an angel once. And now he's gained enough power that daylight won't give him much more than a sunburn. I think we should do it as soon as possible, before he has the chance to try anything else."

"I agree," said Jace, sliding his feet into boots. "Let's get this over with." He began to tie his laces, flexing the throbbing fingers of his left hand.

"Let me heal your hand," said Alec. "You can't fight like that."

"With any luck, we won't need to fight," Jace replied shortly, struggling to undo a knot that had formed in one of the cords.

"Give me your goddamn hand," Alec snapped. Jace stared at him for a moment before straightening and silently holding his hand out. Alec seized it and began to gash an _iratze _into it. "And frankly, I agree with Isabelle," he added, finishing the rune with a violent slash and flinging Jace's hand back at him. "You want to be upset, be upset. God knows we're all worried about Clary. But you shutting down and spiraling into self-loathing doesn't help anything. So just act like a human being for once, will you?"

Jace glanced down at his healed hand. "Thanks," he said grudgingly.

"You're welcome," said Alec snippily, stalking away to gather weapons. Jace resumed the tying of his shoelaces with much more ease, to his chagrin.

"He's got a point, you know," said Magnus mildly.

Jace scowled at him, straightening up and zipping his gear jacket. He slid a stele, his sheathed sword, and three daggers into his belt, along with the runed seraph blade Clary had given him. He ran his thumb over the carved rune at the base of the tube again, imagining it was glowing with a gentle light.

At the sound of footsteps, Jace looked up. Simon and Isabelle entered the library.

"We got to the apothecary just before it closed," said Simon, holding up a paper bag. "This is everything we need."

Magnus took the bag from him and peered inside. "Great. Let's go banish a demon."

None of them smiled. Jace turned away, shoving extra weapons and gear into a duffel bag and zipping it shut. Isabelle and Simon began to silently pull on gear.

"Good, you haven't left yet," said a voice from the doorway. Jace glanced up; it was Luke. "No change in Clary," he added before anyone could ask. "I just wanted to know if you've thought about where you're going to do it. Banish him, I mean." He jerked his chin toward the Pyxis, which was sitting innocently on the table by the sofa, wrapped in a thick towel.

They all glanced at each other; Luke seemed to take their silence as a response. "Use the farm," he said. "My truck's outside. You know how to get there."

Alec nodded. "Thank you, Luke. Are you and Jocelyn staying back?"

"Yeah." He looked weary as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "We want to be here in case—anything happens." He looked away. "Jace, I want a word," he said abruptly.

Jace stared at him for a moment. "Yeah, all right," he said guardedly, setting the bag of weapons down. He followed Luke out into the hallway.

"Here," said Luke, holding out his keys.

Jace took them. "You didn't call me out here just to give me your keys," he said.

"No, I didn't." Luke took Jace's arm and pulled him further down the hallway. "Listen to me," he said quietly, once they were out of earshot of the library. "The moment you let that demon out, he's going to be fighting as hard as he can to stop you. He's going to try to taunt you, provoke you—"

"I know—"

"Let me finish," said Luke, in a harsh tone Jace had never heard him use before. He fell silent. Luke continued. "Whatever you do, _do not let him get to you_. You heard what Brother Enoch said—part of the demon is still inside Clary, and he might try to use that to anger you. He might hurt her, he might even kill her. So, whatever happens, you_ must stay in control._ Do you understand me?"

Jace searched his father-in-law's eyes; they were darkened with fierce protectiveness—and behind that, fear.

"I get it," he said. "I'll be careful."

Luke gave a curt nod and turned away, heading back down the hallway. Jace watched him for a moment before going back into the library.

"Everything okay?" said Simon as Jace entered.

Jace ignored the question. "You can still drive, can't you?"

"Yeah," Simon said. Jace tossed him the keys. He caught them hastily.

"Magnus and I will Portal ahead of you," said Alec as Jace picked up the duffel bag full of weapons and slung it over his shoulder. "We'll set up the spell so it's ready by the time you get there."

"Great," said Jace. "See you in a bit, then."

Alec nodded, heading out of the room, and Magnus followed, picking up the bags full of ingredients for the spell. The doors shut heavily behind them.

Jace moved toward the sofa and picked up the Pyxis, securing the towel more tightly around it. It felt warm to the touch.

"Here, you guard this," said Jace, holding out the Pyxis to Isabelle.

"Is it...safe?" she said, eyeing it cautiously.

"You'll be fine as long as you don't take the towel off. It burned Tessa before." He offered it to her again, but she still made no movement to take it.

"Yeah, but...this thing got into Clary's head," said Izzy doubtfully.

"Only because she was pregnant. _Is_," Jace corrected himself sharply. "You'll be okay."

"Right." She glanced at Simon briefly.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Izzy, you're not—"

"I'm not," she said hastily. "Never mind. Here, give it over."

He handed it to her silently, glancing between her and Simon; they seemed to be meticulously avoiding eye contact.

"Let's go, then," he said eventually.

They both seemed relieved that he had broken the silence, and quickly set about gathering their things.

"After you," said Simon politely, gesturing toward Isabelle.

"Thank you," she said, in a similarly strange tone of politeness. Jace raised his eyebrows again as she moved ahead of them, leading the way out of the room.

"What's going on with you two?" he muttered to Simon as they followed Isabelle.

Simon turned a delicate shade of pink. "Nothing," he said, a little too quickly. "Come on, we've got a job to do." He hastened his pace, catching up with Izzy. Jace hurried after them.

* * *

Several minutes later, they were trundling along down the streets of New York. Though it was nearing midnight, there were still several cars on the road; Simon cursed under his breath as a heavily scuffed Prius swerved into their lane, zooming ahead of them only to brake hard at a red light. "What was the point in cutting me off, then?" Simon muttered to no one in particular.

Jace ignored him, glancing at Isabelle. He was sandwiched between the two of them, his shoulders pressing against them both. Isabelle looked out the window, drumming her fingers absently on the top of the Pyxis. As Jace watched, it seemed to pulse with a malevolent red light.

"I think you're making him angry," he told Isabelle.

She glanced at the Pyxis. "Asshole," she muttered.

"Who, me?"

She rolled her eyes. "The _demon_. Although, yeah, you too."

"What did I do?" Jace demanded, nettled.

Isabelle blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. "You're still wallowing," she said irritably.

"I'm not _wallowing_," Jace snapped. "I'm just worried, all right?"

"I know you, Jace," said Isabelle pointedly. "You're still blaming yourself for all of this. Will you just stop it already?"

Jace set his jaw, turning a stony gaze onto the road in front of them. Isabelle gave an exasperated sigh.

"Simon," she said, leaning around Jace, "back me up here."

"I'm not getting involved," said Simon, flicking his indicator on as he turned onto the deserted highway. Isabelle shot him a sharp glare. "Although," he added hastily, "I think Isabelle's right. I mean, what would Clary have wanted you to do?"

"Why are you talking about her like she's already dead?" Jace snapped.

Simon looked at him, his eyes wide. "Jace, I didn't mean—"

"Simon, _look out!_" Isabelle screamed.

Simon turned his gaze back to the road just as something huge swooped down in front of them. He swore loudly, swerving to the right.

"What the hell was that?" he gasped.

"Ouch!" Isabelle cried, jumping beside Jace. He looked at her to see her sucking her fingers. The Pyxis had tumbled off her lap and lay on the ground by her feet, the kitchen towel smoldering beneath it. "It burned me!" she said.

Suddenly, the Pyxis flared with scarlet light, like a star exploding in the car. The flash of light was gone as quickly as it had come—and then something heavy landed on the roof of the truck.

Blinking spots out of his vision, Jace peered out of the back window just as two winged demons fell out of the sky, landing in the bed of the truck.

Without thinking, Jace reached over Isabelle and rolled her window down. Cold air blasted into the car. "Simon, keep driving!" Jace shouted over the roar of the wind. "Isabelle, guard the Pyxis!"

"Jace, what are you—" Isabelle began, her voice rising, but Jace had already vaulted out of the window, hooking his fingers around the frame and using it to flip himself onto the roof of the car. He found himself a foot from the first demon—it resembled a large, deformed bird, with waxy black feathers and a bone-like beak. As it advanced on him, shrieking and flapping its wings menacingly, he yanked his sword out of its sheath and drove it through the demon's chest. It gave a screech of pain and began to fold in on itself. Jace leapt down into the bed of the truck, slashing out at the other two demons. Within seconds, they, too, collapsed with spurts of ichor and dissolved into nothingness.

"Incoming!" Simon shouted from inside the truck. Jace whirled around to see a dark, swarming cloud on the horizon, growing closer every second.

He swore.

Demons began to flood the air around the car. Planting his feet firmly in the bed of the truck, Jace yanked his stele out of his belt and carved Night-Vision and Agility runes into his arm. He shoved his stele away just as the first demons landed heavily among him. Iciness that had nothing to do with the chill wind descended on him; he felt that he had been waiting for a battle like this, itching for something to do all these weeks. Grinning madly, he began to whirl, his sword tracing arcs in the air as he decimated demon after demon. Flicking ichor-drenched hair out of his eyes, he turned his attention to the next one, holding his sword at the ready.

The truck jolted under him, and he staggered as it swung hard to the left. He swore loudly. "Damn it, Simon, can't you drive any better?" he shouted.

"Are you seriously criticizing my driving right now?" Simon shouted back. "Excuse me if I'm trying to escape a horde of demons!"

"I'm the one _fighting _the demons, and your terrible driving isn't helping!"

"Will both of you SHUT UP and FOCUS!" said Isabelle.

Jace didn't have time to answer; a demon dove straight for his face, and he swung out with his sword, cutting it clean in half. It shrieked and dissolved. The demon he had been approaching used the moment of confusion to lunge for him, and he sliced its head off deftly. The demon tumbled off the back of the truck and rolled away, its momentum carrying it down the highway as it collapsed inward.

He spun around, his sword steady in his hand—but there were no more demons to fight. He was standing in a clear inch of ichor, the black liquid sloshing around in the base of the truck. He squinted into the distance, sharp eyes searching for the slightest movement, but the skies were clear and empty.

The ichor was beginning to eat through his gear; grimacing, Jace waded back toward the cabin of the truck and climbed back in through the window.

"Jace, you're dripping ichor everywhere!" Izzy complained as he flopped down next to her. He peeled his soaked gear jacket off, tossing it onto the dashboard. It sizzled, smoking slightly. His skin was blistering slightly from the ichor that had leaked through, but he hardly felt it.

"Do you need healing runes?" Simon asked, glancing sideways at him.

Jace shook his head. He was aware that he was still grinning from ear to ear. He leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly.

"Are you all right, Jace?" said Isabelle, surveying him.

"I'm fine. I'm great," he said. His heart was still pumping hard, his veins buzzing with adrenaline. "How much further to the farm?"

"A few more hours," Simon said, watching him warily.

"Step on it," Jace told him.

He saw Simon exchange a glance with Isabelle before turning his attention back to the road. They shot off toward the horizon.

* * *

_Pain and darkness were all she knew. She didn't know her own name, didn't know whether she was alive or dead, or whether she was even real. She was nearly blind in the crushing blackness, the only thing in her sight the scarlet smoke that curled around her body, searing her skin where it touched her. She screamed soundlessly, struggling futilely._

Give up_, whispered a sinister voice in her mind. The coils of smoke tightened around her, more like fiery ropes than vapor. _Give up.

I can't_, she thought desperately, though she wasn't sure why. _I won't.

_"...Clary..."_

_Something warm surged through her; she heard a tiny shriek as she freed herself from the vicelike coils, crawling away into further blackness. A burning tendril of smoke wrapped around her ankle, snaking its way back up her body until she was enveloped in its grip once more._

Give up,_ it hissed again._

No! _The thought was more forceful this time. She didn't know what would happen if she gave in, or what was waiting for her if she won—she only knew that she had to keep fighting._

_"...Clary..."_

_Her hearing seemed to sharpen, the smoke around her loosening as that strange warmth flooded her body again._

_"Clary, baby..."_

_"Hey. Any change?"_

_"No. Not yet."_

_The voices sounded as if they were filtering down to her, as if she were lying on the ocean floor and they were on land._

_"Luke...she'll be okay, right?"_

_"...I hope so."_

_"She will be. She has to be. I'm not losing her. Not like this."_

_"Jocelyn—"_

_"Mom," Clary whispered. Her voice dissipated on the air, a breath of silence._

_"Did her finger just move?"_

_"Sweetheart...I think you just jostled it."_

_"_No._ It moved. I swear it did."_

_"Jocelyn..."_

_"Why won't you believe me?!"_

_She wanted to sob, but no sound could come from her throat. The coils of smoke began to tighten around her chest._

_"I just don't want you to get your hopes up. You know I want to believe it as much as you do."_

_"Mom," Clary cried soundlessly. "I'm here. I'm here!"_

Give up,_ snarled the voice in her ear._

_"Clary, baby...come back to me."_

_She opened her mouth to respond, but smoke spiraled up her body and around her throat, and she sank into the depths of the darkness once more._

* * *

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly, next week will be the finale of Part One, after which I'll be taking a short hiatus. In the interim, I was thinking of doing a Q&A, so if that's something you'd be interested in, please let me know!**

**Second, I'm considering updating twice a week for Part Two, so again, please let me know if you'd prefer that.**

**Finally, if you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! We're so close to 50!**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**~4L**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"What happened to you?" Alec demanded immediately as they all tumbled out of the car a few hours later. "Why are you covered in ichor?"

"Got derailed by a couple of demons," said Jace unconcernedly. He set the duffel bag on the hood of the truck and pulled out a spare set of gear, changing quickly into it.

"Couple of demons," Isabelle snorted. "Try two dozen. The goddamn Pyxis was like a homing beacon or something."

"Are you all okay?" said Alec, sounding worried.

"Yeah," Simon said. "It could have been a lot worse. Jace killed them all."

Jace could feel his _parabatai'_s eyes on him. He set his jaw and zipped up his jacket with such force that the tab came off. He tossed it aside. "Are we ready?" he said shortly.

"Magnus should be done in a minute," Alec said, glancing over toward the water. Magnus was standing on the shore, blue sparks flying from his fingertips as he moved his arms in a strange dance of push and pull. An eerie silver light pulsed from a circle he had drawn in the sand. As they watched, Magnus let his arms fall to his side, and the light vanished. He turned and made his way up the hill toward them.

"It's ready," he said. Alec reached out and took his hand.

"Do you need more strength?" he said quietly.

Magnus smiled softly and laid his hand on Alec's cheek. "I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me."

"Don't you know I always worry?" said Alec, smiling back.

Jace swallowed hard, averting his gaze. "Give me the Pyxis," he said to Isabelle. He didn't like the way she searched his eyes before handing it over. Turning away, he began to stalk down the hill to the beach. "Let's get this over with," he called to the others over his shoulder. They followed him.

The runed circle Magnus had drawn had scorched the sand, rough black lines forming jagged shapes and marks. A large pewter cauldron in the center of the circle was filled with a bubbling black potion. As Jace approached, the Pyxis glowed an angry scarlet, and the circle began to pulse with that strange silvery light again.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen," said Magnus as they all joined Jace by the beach. "I'll perform the spell—that should give the circle enough strength to hold the demon. When I say, Jace will release the demon into the circle. Then I'll start the banishing spell." He held up a newer-looking piece of parchment. "The rest of you stay back unless something goes wrong."

"Is that likely?" said Simon, sounding apprehensive. Magnus shot him a glare. "Never mind," Simon said hastily. He took Isabelle's hand and pulled her back from the circle until they were both a safe distance away. Alec brought Magnus's face down to his for a slow, lingering kiss before breaking away and following the others. Magnus watched him go.

"Okay," he said, exhaling as he turned back toward the circle. "Here goes nothing."

He unfurled the worn scroll of parchment and began to chant in a strange, guttural language Jace didn't know. The temperature around the lake seemed to drop by several degrees, a sharp wind picking up around them. The Pyxis in Jace's hands glowed furiously, growing hot enough to scald his fingertips through the dishtowel as the runed circle shimmered like a mirage.

"Now, Jace!" Magnus shouted as the circle exploded with light, turning from silver to a bright, pure gold. Swiftly, Jace ripped the towel off the Pyxis and unlocked it, throwing it into the circle.

There was a flash of bloody light; Jace shut his eyes as the light intensified, a hot, smoky wind washing over him. The smell of sulfur hung heavily in the air. At last, the light died away, and when Jace opened his eyes, Beelzebub was before him.

He looked much the same as he had all those weeks ago, when Jace had first seen him in Magnus and Alec's living room. He towered over them, glowering down at Jace. Magnus began to chant again, his voice rising over the roaring, sulfurous wind.

"Jace Herondale," said Beelzebub, his voice a low rumble. "We meet again. At last."

He stretched out a lazy forefinger, flicking at the air around him; it made a sound like a gong being struck, and the circle blazed with light as a shimmering, translucent wall appeared around him, reverberating for a moment in the air before turning invisible once more. "How primitive," said Beelzebub, sounding amused. "You must know this little cage cannot hold me for long. I freed myself easily from the Pyxis...or don't you remember?"

Jace clenched his jaw. _Don't react. Don't react._

Beelzebub smiled down at him. "How is our dear Clarissa?"

Jace tried to steady his breath—it was coming out in short bursts. _Don't react,_ he thought furiously, balling his hands into fists in his pockets.

"You may have pulled me out of her," said Beelzebub, lounging against the wall of the circle, "but even you must know you didn't win that battle. She is still fighting me. And soon, she'll be tired..." He ran a sharp nail down through the air; it gave a screech as if he were dragging it along a chalkboard. "She'll give up eventually. And you shall lose her forever."

"Shut up," said Jace quietly.

Beelzebub's eyes flared with delight. "Found your tongue?" he drawled. "Pity. I thought you'd take longer to break."

Jace clenched his fists harder, nails digging into his palms. Magnus's chanting grew louder, the wind picking up around them, blowing Jace's hair into his eyes. Beelzebub hissed in pain, whirling on Magnus.

"Ah, the little warlock," he said, in that same easy voice, though Jace detected simmering rage beneath it. "I see you've recovered from our last battle. You'll be less lucky this time."

Magnus ignored him, keeping his eyes focused on the parchment in his hand. Beelzebub stretched languorously.

"Well, this has been fun," he said, all the humor gone from his voice. "But the game is over."

Before Jace could react, Beelzebub reached out and drove the tip of his finger forward. There was a shattering noise like crystal breaking; the shimmering wall appeared once more around Beelzebub, now with a hole in the center of it, cracks spiderwebbing away from it. Beelzebub grinned at Jace—and then he slammed his fist against the wall.

"Magnus, get out of the way!" Jace shouted, tackling the warlock and pushing him to safety as the wall came tumbling down, glasslike pieces crumbling around the demon, cascading down to his feet. Beelzebub gave a great roar as the golden light died away, leaving the night dark.

The demon stepped out of the circle.

"STAY BACK!" Jace yelled as the others started down the hill, weapons drawn. They ignored him, pushing forward.

Beelzebub no longer looked exhilarated; his face was a mask of rage as he advanced toward Magnus, who pushed Jace aside and continued the banishing spell, backing away from the demon. "I should have killed you," Beelzebub snarled. Jace drew his sword, standing between the demon and the warlock.

"Hey, asshole!" came a familiar voice. Isabelle charged down the hill, her whip curled around her arm. "Get away from my friends!"

"I remember you," said Beelzebub, sounding as if he relished the memory. "Knocked you out in two seconds, didn't I?"

"You won't get another chance," Isabelle snapped, uncoiling her whip. It shot forward, a lick of flame against the dark night. Beelzebub danced out of the way, and it missed him by several inches.

"Oh, won't I?" he said, grinning. He flicked a hand at her, and for the second time, Jace watched helplessly as Izzy flew through the air, landing several feet away in the sand. She didn't stir.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Simon shouted as Beelzebub made to move toward her. An arrow streaked through the air, embedding itself in the demon's shoulder. He plucked it out with a small noise of annoyance. Jace took the moment of distraction to swing his sword toward Beelzebub's leg, but the demon moved swiftly out of the way, the movement carrying him closer to Magnus. As he strode forward, evading all of Jace's efforts to slow him down, a heavy bolt flew through the air, hitting home between the demon's shoulder blades.

He gave a roar of pain, reaching up and seizing the bolt. It tore free of his skin with a gush of ichor that spilled down his back. The demon whirled around, hurling the bolt back toward Alec, who was still holding his crossbow—Alec didn't move fast enough, and the bolt drove into his shoulder. Jace felt the blow in his own body, doubling over.

_"ALEC!" _Jace cried.

Simon dropped to his knees beside Alec, casting his own bow aside; Jace cast a wild glance around. Isabelle was still unconscious in the sand, Alec incapacitated, Simon trying to help him, and Magnus—he was still chanting, though his eyes were wide with fear.

It was this, more than anything, that gave Jace strength; he would not let Alec die at the hands of this demon. He would not let _anyone_ die. Not after everything Clary had been through to stop Beelzebub.

"HEY!" he bellowed as Beelzebub made to reach for Magnus again. The demon paused. "It's me you wanted, isn't it?" Jace snapped, flinging his arms out wide. "Well, I'm right here! Come and get me!"

He saw Magnus give him a fleeting glance, but there was no time to respond. Beelzebub lunged forward, his face contorting in rage.

Jace flung himself backward, flipping through the air and landing on his feet in the shifting sand several feet away. "COME AND GET ME!" he screamed again. The demon roared, sweeping an enormous arm forward; a ball of fire shot toward him. Jace ducked, feeling the flames singe the top of his head. The fire crashed onto the beach behind him, sending up a blast of sand and smoke. Jace leapt forward, slashing out at Beelzebub. Sludgy ichor spilled onto the sand, turning it black.

Fire surged through Jace's veins; his sword was a glowing whirl in the air as he slashed and sliced at Beelzebub, opening multiple cuts in the demon's skin. The demon gave a shriek of anger as Magnus's chanting reached a crescendo.

"Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, I banish—" Magnus cried, but before he could finish, Beelzebub swung around with a snarl, flinging an arm toward Magnus. The warlock went flying, crumpled to the ground several feet away, and was still.

_"Magnus!"_ came a faint, strangled cry from the hill. Relief surged through Jace at the sound of his _parabatai_'s voice, though it was tainted by fear for Magnus and Isabelle.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" Jace bellowed as Beelzebub turned toward the hill, another ball of fire gathering in his palm. "I'M THE ONE YOU WANT!"

"Haven't you learned anything?" Beelzebub sneered. "I know what hurts you most, Jace Herondale. You cannot stand to see your friends in pain. If I am to destroy you, I must destroy them. _Just as I destroyed your wife_."

"You haven't destroyed her!" Jace shouted. "She found a way to beat you, and she'll do it again!"

"I _will destroy you!"_ Beelzebub shrieked. "Her love for you will kill her, and yours will kill you!"

"You don't know the first thing about love!" Jace snapped. "You think it makes us weak, you think it ruins us, but it's made us stronger than you'll ever be!"

As he said the words, something burned against his hip. He glanced down to see the runed seraph blade at his belt glowing, giving off a strange light that reminded him of witchlight. And suddenly, he understood.

"I'll prove it to you," he said more quietly, pulling the blade out of his belt. "I'll show you the power you could never have."

He raised the blade to his lips. _"Michael!"_

The seraph blade blazed to life. As Beelzebub leapt forward, Jace flung the blade with all his might, driving it straight through Beelzebub's heart.

The demon straightened, staring down at the dagger protruding from his ribcage. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. "Did you think that would work?" he sneered, pulling the blade out. It crumbled to ash between his fingers. Beelzebub leaned forward, casting Jace in his shadow. "You are weak, little angel boy," he hissed. "You are—"

He gasped suddenly. From the wound in his chest, fissures were beginning to form, trickling outward; they shone with a strange, otherworldly light, crackling up toward his throat.

"_No,_" he snarled. "_NO!"_

He lunged for Jace—but before Jace could react, there was a brilliant explosion of light. He screwed up his eyes against it. A roaring wind formed around the demon, the force of it knocking Jace to the ground. He covered his head with his arms as sand whipped around him, scraping the exposed skin of his hands and neck raw. There was a shriek that split the air, crashing down on Jace's ears—and then silence.

He sat up, panting. Where the demon had stood, there was only a smoldering pile of ash the color of rust. Jace scrambled to his feet, slipping a little in the sand. Across the beach, Magnus was stirring. Jace hurried to him, giving the mound of ash a wide berth.

"Hey," he said, kneeling beside Magnus. The warlock gave a soft groan and sat up slowly.

"That is the last time I'm dealing with a Prince of Hell," he grumbled. "Assholes, all of them. What happened to him?"

"He's dead," said Jace. "Clary's seraph blade killed him."

Magnus's eyes snapped to Jace's. "That's not possible."

"See for yourself," said Jace, pointing at the ash. The wind was catching at it, causing it to slide down the beach and mix into the charred sand around it. Magnus stood unsteadily and limped over to the mound. Jace followed.

"What the _hell._"

Isabelle, Simon, and Alec had joined them. Alec was leaning on Simon, his face paler than usual, but he seemed all right.

"He lost a lot of blood," Simon said before either Magnus or Jace could ask.

Alec glared at him. "But I'm _fine_," he said. He looked at Magnus. "Are you?"

Magnus nodded slowly.

"I'm fine, too," Isabelle pitched in. "In case anyone was worried."

Jace reached over and ruffled her hair. She ducked out from under his arm, cursing under her breath. "I'm glad you're fine, Izzy," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "So is anyone going to explain this thing?" She toed the pile of ash, and it shifted slightly.

"He's _dead_," said Magnus, sounding aghast.

"Awesome," said Simon fervently. Magnus shot him a look. "Not awesome?" he amended. "Why is it not awesome? Isn't that exactly what we were hoping for?"

"We were hoping to banish him," Magnus said sharply. "Killing him is a whole different matter. There are consequences to these sorts of things. It could disrupt the entire balance of the realms of hell."

"Are we sure hell is balanced?" Simon muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Isabelle. Her lip twitched.

Jace's eyes found Magnus's. "What exactly are you saying?" he asked.

Magnus surveyed him for a moment. "I'm saying," he said slowly, "that you need to be careful."

"Aren't I always?" said Jace dryly. Magnus gave him a significant look before turning away to examine the destroyed runic circle, which held only the charred remains of the Pyxis and the smoldering, empty cauldron.

"Well," said Simon, clapping his hands together. "This has been fun. What do you say we all go home?"

* * *

"I brought you some coffee."

Jocelyn looked up as Luke approached, holding a steaming mug. She looked wearier than Luke had ever seen her, the circles under her eyes darkening by the minute.

"Thanks." She took the mug and turned away from him, rubbing her thumb across the back of Clary's hand. Luke didn't think she had let it go once since she had taken up her position by the bed several hours ago. Their daughter lay still, her face as white as the sheets she lay on, her chest rising and falling evenly. Luke could almost believe that she was just asleep, that she would wake up any moment.

He bit his lip and sat down beside Jocelyn. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said.

"I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry, too. I know I bit your head off."

"I didn't mean I didn't believe you," said Luke. "I just—"

"Didn't want me to get my hopes up. You said." She took a sip of her coffee and set it down on the bedside table.

"Jocelyn," said Luke softly. "I didn't want to get _my_ hopes up."

She looked at him for a moment; then, silently, she leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. "I know I shouldn't," she whispered. "But I can't _not_ hope."

"I know."

Jocelyn's free hand found Luke's; their fingers intertwined. Luke closed his eyes, resting his head on top of his wife's.

There was a sudden, sharp rasping noise. Luke sat up straight, his eyes flying open. On the bed, Clary gave another great gasp, her back arching off the frame.

"Oh, my God," Jocelyn breathed, leaning forward and clutching Clary's hand so tightly that her own knuckles turned white. "Clary? Baby, can you hear me?"

Clary bucked on the bed, the sheets knotting around her legs. Then, suddenly, she screamed.

Jocelyn jerked back, her hand ripping out of Clary's. Clary screamed again, thrashing on the bed, her limbs flinging outward.

"Get Brother Enoch!" Luke shouted. With terror in her eyes, Jocelyn turned and dashed out of the infirmary. Luke moved forward cautiously as Clary gave another horrible scream, her face contorted in pain, her back arching so high off the bed that she appeared to be floating.

The scream cut off abruptly. She choked—and then, before Luke's eyes, a tendril of scarlet smoke wound its way out of her mouth, hovering above her. It coalesced, wrapping like a ribbon around itself; Luke thought he heard the tiniest cry before it dissolved, vanishing like mist. Clary fell back to the bed and was still.

Luke approached her carefully. Her hair was damp with sweat, and she was breathing heavily, but her eyes remained closed. "Clary?" he whispered. "Clary, wake up..."

The infirmary doors burst open. _What happened?_ came Brother Enoch's familiar voice.

"She was screaming—" said Jocelyn, her voice shaking.

"I saw something come out of her," said Luke, turning to face the Silent Brother. "Red smoke."

He felt Jocelyn's hand slip into his. He squeezed it tightly.

_I will need a moment to examine her,_ said Brother Enoch. _You may wait outside_.

"_No_," said Jocelyn vehemently. "I'm staying with her."

"Sweetheart," Luke murmured. "It's okay. Let him help her."

Her frightened green eyes met his; in them, beneath the fear, he saw the familiar fierce determination of their daughter's eyes, and remembered where she had gotten them. Slowly, Jocelyn nodded and let him lead her out of the room.

The moment the doors had closed behind them, Jocelyn collapsed onto Luke, sobbing into his chest. He stroked her back. "It's okay," he whispered, "it's okay, she'll be okay..."

He almost believed it.

* * *

By the time they returned to the Institute, the sun was rising, casting a bloody orange glow over the green lawn. Jace staggered up the steps of the church; now that the battle was over, the adrenaline was rapidly draining out of him, and all the Wakefulness runes in the world couldn't keep him awake. But he had to see Clary before he could sleep.

As Simon pushed open the heavy doors and ushered the others ahead of him, rapid footsteps echoed down the hall. Luke appeared in the entranceway, panting.

"I thought I heard the truck," he said, sounding entirely breathless. "It's Clary, she's—"

Jace didn't wait for him to finish. He barreled past Luke, all thoughts of sleep vanishing from his mind. With every pounding footstep and every beat of his heart, there was only one thought: _Please be alive. Please be alive._

He burst into the infirmary. Brother Enoch and Jocelyn were huddled around Clary's bed—as Jace rushed in, they both looked up.

"Oh, _Jace_," Jocelyn breathed. Her face was lined with tear tracks. "Brother Enoch was just telling us..."

"Is she okay?" His voice came out strangled. "Is she—"

_The demonic presence has left Clary,_ said Brother Enoch. _It is only a matter of hours before she wakes up._

Jace couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?"

"Clary's fine," said Jocelyn, giving him a watery smile. "She's going to wake up."

"She's—she's okay?" he said numbly.

_Clary will be fine_.

"Jace," Jocelyn gasped again, pulling him into a tight hug. Jace patted her on the back automatically. "She's okay, she's okay..."

Relief broke inside Jace. He sagged against Jocelyn, his knees weakening. _She's okay,_ he thought.

"Come sit down, you must be exhausted," said Jocelyn, leading him to a chair by Clary's bed. He collapsed into it. "I'll go find Luke, he went to tell the others..."

And she hurried out of the room, Brother Enoch following swiftly. The doors shut behind them.

Jace sagged in the chair. A relieved laugh bubbled out of him. And then, before he could stop it, he was crying. He crumpled forward, sobbing into the sheets, clutching Clary's hand like a lifeline. _Thank the Angel. Thank all the angels in heaven. She's going to be okay._

Slowly, the flow of tears stopped. Jace sat up straight, mopping at his eyes. He brought Clary's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. Then, exhausted, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

* * *

"You're going to hurt your neck, sleeping like that."

Jace jerked awake. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, though judging by the bright sunlight, it was midafternoon. He sat up straight, his neck cricking painfully; clapping a hand to it, he turned his head to see Clary smiling at him, her green eyes sparkling.

He didn't breathe for a moment, barely able to believe it.

"Clary," he said, his voice cracking. "_Clary._"

"Hi," she said simply. He exhaled, bending over to bury his head in the sheets beside her, the pain in his neck forgotten. She stroked his hair.

"You're okay," he whispered. "You're _alive_."

"Oh, come on," she said, and he could hear the gentle laughter in her voice. "You didn't think I could beat that asshole?"

"I never doubted it," said Jace, smiling as he straightened to look at her. He drank in the sight of her, her curly red hair contained in braids, sunlight catching her eyes and making them shine like emeralds. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"Okay. A little sore." She swallowed, seeming to steel herself. "Jace...is—is the baby—"

"He's okay, too. Alive and unharmed, Brother Enoch said," said Jace. Clary exhaled, closing her eyes. "I think you saved his life," Jace told her quietly.

She gave a small smile. "I think we both did." She reached out and took his hand. "Well," she said, her voice lighter. "You look worse for the wear."

He glanced down at himself; he was still wearing his gear, through which Beelzebub's blood had burned several holes. Clary shook her head exasperatedly.

"Let me guess," she said, giving him a playful smile. "You got back and immediately hurtled up here to check on me."

"That was a pretty easy guess, considering how well you know me," said Jace.

Her smile softened. "I do." She shifted over, making room for him on the bed. "Come here." He obliged, crawling onto the bed beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, feeling her pulse against his fingertips.

"So?" she said quietly.

He tilted his head to look her in the eyes. "It's over."

Her whole body seemed to relax against him. She closed her eyes, curling into his chest. He kissed the top of her head gently. "Clary," he said softly, "I don't know how you did it, but you...you killed him somehow."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Your rune," he said. "The rune on that seraph blade—when I used it against him, it killed him."

"He's...dead?"

She straightened slightly, wincing. Jace moved to help her, but she pushed herself up to sitting, locking eyes with him. "I—I thought he'd be banished. I didn't think—" Her eyes filled with tears. "He's dead?"

"He's dead," Jace said softly. "He can never hurt you again."

"Oh," she gasped, and she collapsed on him, sobbing. Jace felt tears prick his own eyes, tears of relief, tears of pain and anguish that were over at last. "Jace..."

"I know," he whispered.

He held her for a long time, stroking her hair gently. A cloud passed over the sun, dappling the floor of the infirmary with dancing spots of sunlight. At last, Clary spoke again, her voice thick.

"Jace," she said softly, "why aren't you mad at me?"

He looked at her. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because..." Her eyes were shining again. "Because I lied to you. I know he told you the truth about all those weeks. And I—" Her voice broke. "I know I shouldn't have lied, and I hated doing it, but I couldn't—I couldn't let you—"

"Blame myself," Jace finished quietly. She nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Clary..." He stroked a thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone. I should have been there for you."

"No," she said vehemently, "no, Jace, you _were_. You did everything you could."

"See, you're doing it again," he said, smiling sadly. "You're trying to protect me. And God knows I can't blame you."

She stared at him, her lips parting slightly. "I don't understand."

"All these weeks," Jace began quietly, "you kept everything you were going through secret. You felt like you couldn't talk about any of it with me, because you were scared I'd use it against myself. And the truth is, I probably would have. But that wasn't fair to you. You practically killed yourself just to give me a little peace of mind." He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "You shouldn't have had to be afraid of that. You shouldn't have had to worry about that."

"I just wanted to protect you," she whispered.

"I know." He kissed her forehead. "I know you did. But if I wasn't the kind of person who felt guilty about everything, who thought everything was my fault, you wouldn't have had to. You could have talked to me about everything, you could have had my support. And that _is_ my fault."

"Don't," she said softly, but he smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to hate myself for it," he said. "I'm just going to change it, so nothing like this ever happens again. So from now on, no more self-loathing. No more self-destruction. Just a normal, healthy mindset."

Clary looked bewildered. "Wow," she said. "What happened to you?"

He laughed. "Isabelle slapped some sense into me. But also..." He squeezed her hand. "Your rune lit up when I told Beelzebub that our love made us stronger. It only worked once I realized that, and it ended up destroying a goddamn Prince of Hell." Clary gave a watery chuckle. "Our love is incredible, Clary. But it only works when we trust each other. We have to be there for each other. And stuff like this, like me blaming myself for everything, it only comes between us. You cut yourself off from telling me anything so you could protect me, and that came between us, too. Because you couldn't trust that I'd be okay if you told me the truth. But I will be, Clary. I can promise you that now."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she brought her lips to his. He gave himself fully to the kiss, leaning into her, breathing in her scent.

After a long time, they broke apart. "Clary," said Jace softly, gazing into her eyes. "If you want to talk about what happened, I'll listen."

She hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said. "I promise, I'm not going to use it against myself. Healthy mindset, remember?"

She chuckled. "Only took you twenty-five years to get there," she said dryly.

"I think it might take a while to unlearn the habit," said Jace truthfully.

She squeezed his hand. "It's okay. I'll help you," she said softly.

He smiled. "I'd like that." She returned the smile, oddly shyly. "So..." said Jace. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I..." Her eyes shimmered. "I _want _to. I really do, Jace, I just can't. Not yet. It's too..." She took a shuddering breath.

"Hey." He kissed her forehead. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

She nodded, exhaling shakily as she closed her eyes. Tears dropped down onto their entwined hands. Jace reached up and gently wiped her cheeks. She rested her head on his chest; he felt her relax into him, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

"I love you," Clary whispered. She placed her hand over his heart. They lay there together, their pulses mingling, and Jace exhaled, feeling lighter than he could ever remember feeling.

"She's awake!" said a sudden voice from the doorway. "Oh, ew, wait, they're canoodling."

They both lifted their gazes to see Isabelle poking her head through the door. Clary and Jace exchanged a glance; Clary shook her head, smiling slightly.

"You can come in, Izzy," she called.

Isabelle threw the doors open, hurrying into the room with a mass of people on her heels: Jocelyn and Luke rushed after her, with Simon, Alec, and Magnus close behind.

"Clary!" Jocelyn gasped, flinging herself onto her daughter. Jace shifted awkwardly out of the way. "Oh, you're awake, thank God..."

"Mom," said Clary, her voice sounding muffled beneath her mother's arm, "I can't breathe!"

"Oh, sorry..." Jocelyn withdrew, hastily drying her cheeks. "I'm just so glad you're okay."

"I know," said Clary, smiling softly. "I'm glad, too." She glanced at Jace; grinning, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, filled at last with hope.

**END OF PART ONE**

* * *

**A/N: WHAT?! FIFTY REVIEWS?! I'm so so grateful to all of you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. I'm glad people have been enjoying the story.**

**Based on everyone's responses, I will be uploading twice a week for Part Two, on Saturdays and Wednesdays. I'll be taking a short break, and then we'll be back with Part Two! We're only getting started, folks. It's about to get a whole lot crazier.**

**Thanks for reading, and see you soon.**

**~4L**

**CITY OF SMOKE AND DUST WILL RETURN ON FEBRUARY 8, 2020.**


	14. Part II, Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello! Thank you all for your lovely reviews on last chapter! I've made you wait long enough, so without further ado, on to Part II!**

* * *

**PART TWO: RAIN**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Summer ended and fall arrived, bringing with it leaves of gold and russet and scarlet, wind laced with notes of spice and smoke, and sunsets so vivid and brilliant that Clary longed for her paints and pencils for the first time in weeks. Indeed, when she was in the infirmary (Jace insisted she rest there for a few days as her body recovered from the physical strain of being possessed), she had asked Jace to move her bed closer to the window so she could see the sunsets. He had brought her her art supplies before she could even ask for them; she had responded by kissing him so deeply that Isabelle gagged and left the room, vowing not to come back until they had "stopped acting like horny teenagers."

The passing weeks brought other changes as well. Slowly, Clary's nausea eased, her energy redoubled, and, most notably, her stomach began to swell.

"This is _so_ weird," she said one morning, poking the small, firm bump. "I swear this wasn't here yesterday."

Jace finished making the bed and came over to her, catching her hand as she went to prod her belly again. "Stop poking the baby," he said.

She laughed. Pulling away from him, she turned to the side and pulled her tank top up so he could see her belly. "Well? What do you think? Do I look pregnant yet?"

He surveyed her for a moment. "Hmm...are you sure you didn't just eat a big dinner last night?"

She swatted him. "You calling me fat, Herondale?" she demanded.

"Never," he promised. "Cross my heart." He leaned in towards her, kissing her nose, then her lips. Then, surprisingly, he ducked his head and kissed her bare belly. She giggled. He ran his hand across her stomach before turning back to the bed to adjust the pillows. "You slept better last night," he said, his tone deceptively light.

Clary felt her smile falter. "You stayed up again."

"It's not forever," Jace reminded her gently. "Just until you stop having nightmares. And like I said, you slept better, didn't you?"

"I guess," said Clary grudgingly. Jace smiled with satisfaction. "Don't be so smug," she added, frowning at him. "I still think you staying up is ridiculous. It's—it's not like we know how long this is going to go on."

Jace watched her with a knowing look in his eye. Clary turned away quickly, pulling on her robe.

"Clary," he said softly. "Look at me." She did, reluctantly. "Please talk to me," said Jace.

Clary sighed, sinking down onto the bed. "I just..." she began. "I just hate that this is still happening. And it's not even him. It's my own stupid brain. I mean, he's gone, he's gone for good. So why—" Her voice cracked. "_Why_ does he still have this power over me?"

"He doesn't," said Jace gently, sitting beside her. "And it's not stupid, Clary. You went through something horrible. Of course some of it is going to linger. You just have to give it time. It's only been a few weeks. You'll heal eventually. And I'll be here the whole time."

Clary gave him a fleeting smile. "The whole time? Won't you get bored of me?" she said teasingly.

"Would you get bored looking at the Sistine Chapel every night?" said Jace with a very cheeky grin.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Your charms don't work on me anymore, you know."

"Oh, don't they?" said Jace in a sultry tone. He bent his head toward her, brushing his lips against hers. She leaned into him instinctively, and he slid his tongue into her mouth with practiced ease.

She sighed, withdrawing reluctantly. "As much as I would love to keep doing this," she said, running a finger down his chest and grinning at how it made him shiver, "there's a huge stack of paperwork waiting for us downstairs."

"Burn it," said Jace fervently, kissing her again. Against her better judgment, she let him pull her down onto the bed, wrapping herself around him.

* * *

"I lied earlier," said Jace.

They lay in bed together, limbs tangled between them, sweat clinging to their hair and skin. Jace was tracing patterns across her skin with the tip of his finger. It lingered for a moment beside the scar of the burn on her chest before continuing to move.

"Oh?" said Clary lightly. She looked up at him; his eyes glimmered.

"You do look pregnant," Jace said.

"Do I?" She smiled, and Jace put his finger against the hollow of her throat, drawing it down between her breasts and over the gentle curve of her belly. Clary felt goosebumps erupt on her skin.

"You're gorgeous," Jace murmured. She shivered.

"Stop that," she chided him.

"Stop what?" he said mischievously. He sucked at the skin above her collarbone.

She smacked his head lightly. "Stop trying to seduce me! We have work to do. We were supposed to get a new shipment of weapons from the Adamant Citadel today, and we'll need to sort and catalogue them."

"Mm, you sound so sexy when you talk administration to me," Jace growled.

Clary brushed her finger across his lips. "Paperwork," she whispered. "Organization." She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. "Downworlder negotiations and conflict mediation," she breathed into his ear.

He gave a low groan and pulled her down for a kiss. She giggled. "Are you actually turned on right now?"

"You could recite the Codex to me and I'd be turned on," Jace said, nipping lightly at her lower lip.

"_Stop_," Clary whined, "or we'll never get out of bed."

"So what?"

Clary rolled her eyes and pushed herself off him. At that moment, her phone chimed. She reached over and grabbed it. A text from Simon appeared on the screen: _Hey, can Izzy and I come over? We need to get out of the apartment._

"Tell him to go screw himself," Jace advised her, looking over her shoulder. She smacked him again and began to type. _Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?_

Simon replied almost instantly. _Yup, see you soon._

Clary sent a thumbs-up emoji and turned back to Jace. "Well, I guess we have no choice but to get up now," she said.

"Or," Jace suggested, "we could stay in bed and make them do all our work for us."

Clary gave an exasperated sigh and rolled out of bed, yanking him up with her. He gave a yelp as he fell onto the floor with a loud _thud_.

* * *

"Why are you both in your pajamas?" Simon said as he and Isabelle entered the kitchen. "It's one in the afternoon."

Clary looked over her shoulder at Jace. "We got held up this morning," she said, fixing him with a stern look. He grinned and pulled the waffle iron out of the cabinet as Clary finished whisking together the batter. "Breakfast?" she added to Simon and Izzy.

"Again," said Simon, "it's one in the afternoon."

Clary scowled at him. "Breakfast for lunch, then, you judgmental ass?"

"Ignore my husband," said Isabelle sharply. "Waffles would be great."

Clary glanced between them as they both sat down at the table. They were both holding themselves rather stiffly, and there seemed to be an oddly distant air about them.

"Are you guys—" she began, but before she could finish, there was a loud clattering from behind her. She turned to see Jace fiddling with the plug of the waffle iron.

"Has this thing always been so damn difficult?" he demanded, stabbing at the socket.

Clary sighed and went over to look. "You bent it," she said exasperatedly, examining the plug. As she tried to fix the metal prongs, Jace moved around the kitchen, gathering toppings.

"I would like you to know," he told Simon and Isabelle as he pulled a canister of whipped cream and a carton of strawberries out of the fridge, "that you two interrupted some very sexy business between my wife and I this morning."

"What a tragedy," said Isabelle tonelessly. "And also, gross."

Clary, having bent the plug back into shape, plugged in the waffle iron. The red light at its base began to blink. "Jace, I would really rather you kept our sex lives to ourselves," she said.

"Where's the fun in that?" he said, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, interlocking his fingers over her stomach. She smiled despite herself, leaning into him for a moment before extricating herself from his grip. The waffle iron beeped, and she picked up the bowl of batter.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and go check the mail?" she said, pouring batter into the iron.

"I'll do it later," said Jace unconcernedly, leaning against the counter. Clary rolled her eyes and closed the lid of the iron, flipping it. As she turned to reprimand him, she caught sight of Simon. He was staring at her stomach.

"Something wrong?" said Clary.

He averted his eyes. "You're—uh—showing," he said awkwardly.

Clary smiled, laying her hand over her belly. "Yeah, I know," she said, looking down at the little bump.

There was a loud _bang_. Clary jumped. Isabelle had knocked over her chair. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I—hey, let me go check your mail for you." And she hurried out of the room.

Clary stared after her. Simon seemed to wilt in his chair. The waffle iron beeped again, and Jace went over to it, glancing significantly at Clary. She approached Simon.

"Are you guys okay?" said Clary uncertainly.

"Yeah. Fine," said Simon dully. Clary folded her arms, looking him in the eye. He sighed. "We had a fight. That's why we came over. We just needed to get out of the apartment."

"Yeah, you said," Clary replied. "What was the fight about?"

"Nothing. It's fine," Simon mumbled. "So, hey, big milestone," he added feebly.

She narrowed her eyes at him; his expression begged her to let it go.

"Yeah," she said finally. "Pretty big milestone."

Jace slid a plate holding a fluffy waffle onto the table. "First one's up for grabs," he said, heading back over to the iron.

"You go on," Simon said, nodding at Clary. "I'm not that hungry."

She was going to protest, but her stomach gave a loud rumble. Sitting down opposite him, she pulled the waffle toward her, adding liberal amounts of whipped cream to it.

Isabelle came back into the kitchen. "You had a letter from the Consul and there was a big box of weapons, I can take it up to the armory if you want," she said all in one breath. "Here," she added, holding out an envelope.

Clary took it. "Uh, that's okay, Izzy, we'll take it up ourselves." She set the letter on the table and stood up, taking her plate with her.

"What are you doing?" said Jace as he turned the iron over and set it to cook.

"It needs something else," said Clary, digging around in the fridge. She opened a jar of mayonnaise and squinted at its contents before returning it to the fridge. "Oh!" She pulled out a bottle of ranch and dumped some onto her waffle.

Jace gagged. "That's disgusting." Clary glared at him before grabbing a handful of blueberries and adding them to her plate. Jace turned a strange shade of green. "Are you seriously going to eat that?"

Clary popped a defiant bite into her mouth. "It's good. You should try it," she said with her mouth full.

Jace shook his head as he opened the iron, sending steam spiraling up toward the ceiling. "Is this one of those crazy pregnancy things?"

"You calling me crazy?"

"No," said Jace hastily. "Absolutely not. Your waffle looks fantastic."

"Thank you," said Clary loftily, beginning to walk away. Then she turned back around, grabbed the bottle of ranch, and brought it with her to the table. Isabelle was still standing awkwardly at its end. "Uh," Clary said as she pulled out her chair, "do you want to sit down?"

"Oh, right," said Isabelle. She sat, leaving an empty chair between her and Simon. He glanced at her briefly. Clary took another bite of her waffle, chewing it slowly as she looked between them.

Jace set another waffle onto the table. "Who wants it?" he said.

Simon and Isabelle looked at each other. "You can—" Simon began.

"No, you take it," said Isabelle.

"Really, it's—"

"Take it, Simon," Isabelle said firmly. She got up again, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with water at the sink.

"Izzy," Simon said hesitantly, "maybe we should—"

"Crap!"

There was the sound of something breaking. Clary turned to see Isabelle sucking at her finger, shards of glass littering the counter. As Clary watched, a bead of blood rolled down Isabelle's finger and landed in the shallow water, blooming like smoke.

_Hello, sister mine._

_Can't you pretend you're even a little happy to see me?_

_That child could have been mine, you know._

_Can you bring yourself to destroy it?_

Clary was suddenly on her feet. The world seemed to recede around her—she couldn't breathe—she felt like she was going to vomit—

She dashed out of the room, clamping a hand over her mouth. It felt as if the hallway were getting smaller. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall, gasping, but no amount of breath could slow her cantering heart or make her hands stop trembling, and she could hear the smooth drawl of Sebastian's voice as if he were right beside her—

"Clary?" said a voice. She flinched, pressing herself harder into the wall. "Clary." Jace's face swam in front of her. "You're okay. Deep breaths."

She slid to the floor, burying her face in her hands. Her head dropped between her knees as she sucked in a breath, forcing it all the way down into her stomach. She could feel her pulse in her fingertips, in her cheekbones—it felt like every nerve had been lit up with electricity. Her face was damp.

She felt Jace kneel beside her. "You're okay," he said again, softly. She dug her nails into her calves, the sharp pain focusing her.

It was a long few minutes before her heart rate began to slow. At last, Clary lifted her head; Jace was watching her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice sticking in her throat. She cleared it. "I don't know what happened. I just—I panicked."

"Why?"

"I..." Her voice shook. She drew in a stabilizing breath. "That night," she began, "when Isabelle got attacked by that Cecaelia..."

"Yeah?" said Jace, prompting her gently.

"I went to get a glass of water and I—I saw...I saw Sebastian." She swallowed hard. "And I thought it was a dream, but...it was real, and he could—touch me—" A fresh wave of tears threatened to undo her. She fought it back. "He almost made me...hurt the baby. I felt like I was going insane."

Jace was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "Beelzebub told me. He said he sent you hallucinations. I didn't know..."

"It was awful," Clary whispered. "I never thought I'd have to see him again, but he—and then, for a week, he was just always _there_, whispering in my ear, taunting me..." She rubbed her arms. "It's over," she said, trying to convince herself. "It's over. He's gone."

"He is," said Jace gently. "This is good, Clary. Talking about it is good."

"I feel..." She steadied herself. "I feel like he still has this hold on me. Like I'm never going to break free." Her lower lip wobbled, and she bit down hard on it.

"You will," Jace said softly. "The nightmares, this panic—it'll pass. You just have to make it through today. And then tomorrow. One day at a time." She nodded, wiping clumsily at her face. Jace reached out and brushed away her tears. "You feel like getting up?"

"Yeah." Jace offered his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her up. "Wait," she said as he made to go back into the kitchen. She approached him carefully and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. His arms came up around her, holding her tight. He kissed the top of her head. "Okay," she said, pulling away. "Now I'm ready."

Jace went back into the kitchen first, Clary following. Simon and Isabelle glanced up, both looking relieved; they seemed to have been sitting in silence. Someone had cleaned up the broken glass, and Isabelle's finger looked unharmed.

"Everything okay?" said Simon. Clary nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and sat back down at the table, picking at her waffle. She took a deep breath and began to eat slowly.

"I think I'm going to go home," said Isabelle abruptly, standing up.

"Oh," said Simon, looking up at her. "Okay. See you later."

She left the kitchen without another word.

"Not that it's my place or anything," said Jace, "but I think you guys need to work some stuff out."

"You're right," Simon snapped. "It's not your place." He stood up too, abandoning his half-finished waffle. "I'll go put those weapons in the armory." He strode out of the room without looking back.

"Hey, at least we can say we're not as dysfunctional as those two," said Jace, coming over with a plate and sitting down beside Clary. She gave a weak smile.

"That's my _parabatai_ and your sister you're talking about," she chided half-heartedly.

"Which gives me the right to say exactly what I think about them," Jace said seriously. He cut his waffle in two and placed half on Clary's nearly empty plate. "Eat it," he said as she opened her mouth to protest. "I know you're hungry."

She couldn't deny it. Smiling softly at him, she picked up the bottle of ranch and poured some onto the waffle.

"I still think that's disgusting," Jace said.

Clary gave a soft laugh. "I love you anyway."

He kissed her cheek. "Love you, too."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in relative placidity. Simon bid them goodbye in the early evening after having helped them organize and restock the armory. Jace subsequently set about reshelving and reorganizing books in the library. This left Clary to answer the Consul's letter, which requested a needlessly detailed list of dates on which they would be holding Conclave meetings and the topics they planned to cover.

"You're going cross-eyed," Jace told her as he slid a thick tome onto a bookshelf, two hours after Clary had begun compiling the necessary information.

"Why is it," she said, putting her head down on the desk, "that there never seem to be enough weeks in the year to get things done?"

"Who can say?" Jace said, coming over and perching on the desk. "Here, we can cut this meeting. Who needs to know about the demon reports anyway?"

"You're really not helping!"

Jace sighed. "I think you need a break."

She lifted her head, squinting at him. "You think?"

He grinned at her. "Come on, O Esteemed Institute Head. Play hooky with me. Shirk your duties. Whatever the kids say nowadays."

"You're twenty-five," Clary pointed out. "Although I don't think anyone has said 'shirk' since the eighteen-hundreds."

"My prodigious lexicon is severely underappreciated," Jace said. He held out his hand to her. "So?"

Smiling slightly, she slid her hand into his. "Where are we going?"

"On a walk. You need to relax," he said, pulling her out of her chair. She let him lead her down the hallway and into the entrance hall, where he paused to duck into the niche by the door. He emerged with two daggers and a seraph blade strapped to his belt.

"Are we expecting trouble?" Clary asked innocently.

Jace's eyes glittered with a dark humor. "I always expect trouble."

"I thought this was supposed to be relaxing."

Jace grinned at her. "_I_ always feel most relaxed when I know I have something to defend myself with."

"You would," Clary muttered, pushing open the doors. Jace followed, shutting the doors behind them and taking her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. They began to walk, heading through the gates and turning onto the sidewalk. Clary took in a lungful of cool air, sighing it out.

"This relaxing enough for you, Mrs. Herondale?" Jace said.

She frowned at him. "Mrs. Herondale? When have I ever been Mrs. Herondale?"

"Well, 'Clary Fairchild, wife of Jace Herondale and mother of the future Herondale offspring' is a bit of a mouthful, don't you think? 'Mrs. Herondale' covers all the criteria."

"'Future Herondale offspring'?" Clary glanced at him with some amusement. "Why don't I call you Mr. Fairchild instead? Is your masculinity too fragile for that?"

He laughed. "I think we both know I'm _very_ secure in my masculinity."

"Mm," Clary said. "Some might say too much so."

"They're clearly intimidated by me."

This time it was Clary's turn to laugh. "Sure, Jace. Whatever makes you feel better."

He brought their entwined hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. They turned the corner; the wind shifted slightly, bringing a smell of ripe garbage their way. Clary wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. New York." She moved closer to Jace as a bicyclist rode past them. "So," she said, "why all the sudden talk of 'Mrs. Herondale'?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I guess with all of this...I've just been thinking. About our child's last name. Because when I chose the name 'Herondale'..."

"It was because the name would die out otherwise," Clary said. "I remember."

"But even if the baby gets my last name, you'd still be a Fairchild. And if—if something happened to you...I wouldn't want him to think you weren't a Herondale, too." He passed a hand over his eyes. "I know it doesn't make much sense."

"Do you _want_ me to change my name to Herondale?" Clary asked.

He shook his head. "Not if you don't want to. I know the Fairchild name is important to you, too."

"Maybe we should hyphenate," Clary said. "We could all be the Fairchild-Herondales."

He smiled. "I think I'd like that."

Clary bit her lip. "So you've been thinking about last names. Have you been thinking about...first names?" She put her hand on her slightly-protruding stomach.

His smile grew. "A little. Have you?"

Before Clary could answer, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She listened closely to their surroundings; beneath the sound of skittering leaves on pavement and the wind against hard concrete, there was a soft clicking sound behind them. The smell of garbage intensified.

Clary moved closer to Jace, on the pretense of seeking warmth. "There's something following us," she breathed.

She felt his muscles grow taut, but he continued to walk casually. "How close?"

"Close."

His hand tightened around hers. "You need to go."

She shook her head, sliding the seraph blade out of his belt. "We're doing this together."

He exhaled, nodding slowly. "Okay. On my mark."

They continued to stroll down the street; an alley loomed up ahead. Whistling softly, Jace made his way toward it. The clicking behind them grew louder.

The alley was a dead end; trash bags were piled up against the brick wall, nearly blocking the back door of a soup kitchen. Clary tried to hold her breath as the stench of rotting garbage grew around them.

"I think there's more than one," she whispered. Almost as soon as she said it, there was a snarling sound from the main road, followed by another series of clicking noises. Jace pulled her into the shadows, listening intently. Clary edged toward the road—

And a Ravener demon leapt from the rooftop, landing right in front of her.

"Clary!" Jace shouted, but she had already sprung into motion, dodging the Ravener's long barbed tail and bringing the seraph blade to her mouth.

"_Eremiel!"_ she cried. The alley exploded with light. The Ravener got out half a screech before Clary plunged the blade into its side. It collapsed, folding in on itself.

Behind her, Jace grunted as another Ravener shot into the alley from the road, hissing and spitting. Clary could barely make out words: _"Where is he? We want—"_

Jace drove a dagger up through the base of its mouth. It shrieked and fell to the ground, twitching.

"Jace," Clary gasped, looking up. The bright moon was blocked out by shadowy, hulking figures on the rooftops.

The demons landed heavily around them; within seconds, Jace and Clary were side by side, weapons flashing in the night.

"How is it," Clary panted, "that you always seem to have weapons on you when demons sneak up on us?"

Jace smiled grimly. "Because I rarely go unarmed."

Clary thrust her seraph blade between a demon's ribs. "When we finish this, we need to have a serious discussion about your eternal paranoia."

"Isn't it only paranoia if the things you're worried about don't actually come true?" Jace pointed out, using both of his daggers to slash a demon's throat with a scissoring motion.

_"WE WANT HIM!"_ another demon screeched, scuttling toward Clary.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Clary told it.

The demon snarled. "_Him. The boy who killed him."_

Clary sighed. "You demons and your pronouns. Always so vague." And before the demon could respond, she drove her blade into its eye.

"Ugh," she said, pulling it back out as the demon began to crumple. It was covered in a sludgy mixture of ichor and brain matter. "I think my morning sickness is coming back."

"Ha—"

There was a squishing sound, followed by a strangled gasp. Clary turned around as a Ravener retracted its pointed tail, pulling it out of Jace's shoulder.

"Jace!" Clary screamed. He grunted and fell to his knees, clasping his shoulder. Blood gushed between his fingers.

_"Mine,"_ the Ravener hissed, skulking toward Jace. Clary flung the seraph blade at it; it hit home between the Ravener's eyes, and the demon caved in, taking the blade with it.

Gasping and drenched in sweat, Clary spun around; but the demons were gone, every last one of them killed. Jace collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving.

Clary dashed to his side, dropping down beside him. "Jace—it's okay, don't move—"

"Move?" Jace managed, breath coming out in short bursts. "I could—go for a—lovely stroll, if not—for the waterfall of—blood coming from my—shoulder."

Clary scowled at him. "Now is not the time for quipping! Just give me your stele."

"Ahh...stele..."

Clary's heart plummeted. "You don't have a _stele_?" she demanded. "You bring half the armory with you, and you didn't think to bring a stele?"

"Half the armory," Jace mumbled disbelievingly. "I brought three blades."

Shaking, Clary bent over him and tore a strip from the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Hey," he said, sounding annoyed. "I like this shirt."

"I need to stop the bleeding."

"Why can't we use _your_ shirt?" Jace whined as she wadded up the white material and pressed it to the gushing wound. It began to redden instantly.

"Because _my_ shirt is silk and won't absorb anything!" Clary snapped. "Would you rather I save the shirt or your life?"

"Just don't see why my stuff always gets ruined in demon attacks..." Jace muttered.

Clary sighed. "I'm covered in ichor, Jace. My clothes are just as bad as yours, all right?"

He didn't answer; she glanced at his face to see that his eyelids had shut. Her stomach dropped. "Jace! Jace, goddamn it, wake up!" She slapped him. He gasped, his eyes flying open.

"Ouch," he said, squinting at her. "What did I do?"

"Don't fall asleep!" she cried. "You have to stay awake, okay? You're losing a lot of blood." She pressed the sodden strip of fabric harder into his shoulder; he bucked, letting out a strangled groan. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just need to control this bleeding," she said, her voice shaking. "Here, can you hold this?"

He moaned, his eyes going out of focus. Clary reached over him and grabbed his good arm, pulling it across his chest and arranging his fingers on the ball of fabric. "Jace," she said gently, "I need you to press this into your shoulder. Just for a few seconds, okay? I'm going to try to bind the wound."

He grunted and pressed his palm into his shoulder. With shaking hands, Clary tore more material off the bottom of his shirt, ripping it into strips.

"Lucky I look good in a crop top," Jace wheezed.

"Save the sarcasm for later, you need your energy," Clary said, using her teeth to pull out a stubborn stitch.

"Sarcasm?" Jace said, sounding affronted. Clary shook her head and moved his hand away, replacing the saturated fabric with a fresh, wadded-up strip and wrapping another strip around his shoulder. She pulled it tight and knotted it.

"How does that feel?" she said anxiously, sitting back on her heels.

"Feels..." His eyelids drooped again. "Feels okay."

"Okay." She drew in a deep breath. "Jace?"

"Mm?"

"We need to get back to the Institute." She was speaking very clearly; his eyes looked like they were trying to focus on her. "I need you to sit up and put your good arm around me."

"You have stars in your eyes," he said dreamily.

"Jace." She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Do you understand me? I need you to sit up." She slid her arm beneath him, helping him up. He gave a sharp cry, nearly falling on her; it took all her strength to pull his arm around her shoulders and heave him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her.

"Ow," he mumbled.

"I know," Clary said, already panting from the effort of supporting him. "It's not far, okay? We just have to get back to the Institute, and then I can heal you." She dragged him to the end of the alleyway. He stumbled drunkenly, barely putting one foot in front of the other.

"Your hair is like fire," he murmured. "Like a good fire, like in a fireplace. Not like a bad one. Not burning down a building. Are you an arsonist? I think we know an arsonist."

Clary sighed, lugging him down the block.

"Clary?" he said after a long moment.

She flung a sweat-soaked piece of hair out of her eyes. "Yes?"

"I think...I think I'm gonna take a nap."

Clary's heart skittered in her chest. She looked at him; his eyes were half-shuttered, and the makeshift bandage on his shoulder was reddening. "Jace," she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. "Listen to me. You can't sleep right now, okay? I need your help to get back, I can't carry you."

"I can...help..." He was seriously slurring his words now. "Jus needa...nap..."

"Jace, talk to me," she said sharply, pulling him more quickly down the street. A moan escaped him. "Tell me a story, okay?"

"O...kay..." He drew in a deep breath, his eyes focusing. "Alec and I were eleven...were in the training room...learning to jump..."

"That's good," said Clary, staggering around the corner. Her legs were shaking. "What else?"

"I think...he was...scared. But he still...tried to...teach me..." He gave a rattling gasp, his nails digging into her side.

"Keep going," Clary urged him. "What happened?"

"I can't...I can't remember..."

"We're almost there," Clary panted, dragging him forward. She could see the rising spires of the Institute. "Almost there, Jace, did you hear me?"

"Almost..."

He slumped against her, his weight knocking her to the ground. They landed in a heap, Jace on top of her. Clary pushed herself out from underneath him. He was breathing shallowly. The bandage was soaked through. Clary swore under her breath. "Jace, come on," she whispered, shaking him. His head lolled. "Come on, please, Jace, _please_..." He didn't stir.

Clary swallowed, looking up at the shadowed Institute. She grit her teeth and put her hands under Jace, hooking her elbows around his shoulders and pulling him half to his feet. Straining under his weight, she began to drag him backwards toward the Institute. By the time she reached the gates, sweat was pouring down her back in rivulets. She pulled him up the steps, setting him down on the cool marble. Her stomach turned over as she saw that the bandage had slid aside, letting blood pour down his arm. He had gone chalk-white.

"It's okay," she gasped, half to herself. "You're okay, you're—" She pulled herself to her feet, staggering into the Institute. Her frantic hands knocked aside the weapons in the alcove, digging right to the back and closing around something long and thin.

Clutching the stele tightly, Clary dove back outside and knelt beside Jace, tearing his shirt off his shoulder and inking an _iratze_ next to the gaping wound. "Come on," she muttered, "come on, please..."

Slowly, painstakingly, the skin began to knit itself back together.

Clary exhaled, her fingers trembling. She tightened her hold on the stele and drew a Blood-Replenishing rune beside the now-fading _iratze_.

Jace gave a soft groan, his eyelids fluttering open. "Ow," he croaked.

"Oh, thank the Angel," Clary whispered, bending over him and pressing her lips to his. "I have never been so happy to hear you complain."

"Who's complaining?" Jace slurred. "I feel...great. Ready to go...fight some demons."

"Sure you are," Clary said, smiling with relief. "You're going to be fine, Jace." She collapsed beside him, the adrenaline draining out of her body. "You're going to be fine," she said again, clutching his hand.

Suddenly, a loud whooshing noise cut through the night, accompanied by a bright blue light from around the corner of the Institute. A moment later, a familiar voice called across the grounds.

"Jace! Jace, are you here?"

Clary sat up. "Alec!"

He came running around the corner. "What happened?" he said, dashing up the steps. "Does he need runes? Are you okay? Is he okay?"

"Well, he'd prefer if you didn't talk about him like he isn't here," Jace murmured, half-opening his eyes. Alec exhaled.

"I'm fine, but he lost a lot of blood," Clary explained. "I put on an _iratze_ and an _amissio_, but it wouldn't hurt to have you do some." She handed the stele to him. He took it and began to trace more runes along Jace's collarbone.

"What happened?" he asked again. "It felt like something had stabbed him."

"Demons," Jace mumbled, frowning. "A big stinking group of them."

"They snuck up on us," Clary told Alec as he finished a rune.

"Is that better?" Alec said anxiously, his stele poised over Jace. "I can do more if you—"

Jace waved a hand. "I'm _fine_," he drawled. "You guys worry too much. Besides, my gorgeous, sexy wife can heal me up whenever..."

Clary felt her face burn. "He lost a lot of blood," she mumbled again.

Alec looked as though he were trying very hard not to laugh. "I can tell." He stood. "Let me help you carry him inside."

Between the two of them, they managed to get Jace upstairs. He shot finger guns at Alec as they lowered him into bed.

"You're cool," Jace told him drowsily. "You're a cool guy."

"You should take a video of him," Alec said to Clary, grinning. "Use it as blackmail."

"I like blackmail," said Jace musingly. "Wait, who are we blackmailing?"

Clary ignored him, turning to Alec. "Do you need a Portal back?"

He shook his head. "I'll call Magnus. But can you tell me more about what happened? Do we need to be worried about these demons?"

"I don't think so," Clary said, but she told him the whole story of what had happened. By the end, he was frowning.

"But they were looking for something," he said, folding his arms.

"Someone, I think," Clary said. "One of them said they wanted 'the boy who killed him.'"

"Pronouns," Alec said exasperatedly. "Would it kill a demon to give us actual names every now and then?"

"Yeah, probably," Clary pointed out. "Anyway, I think we should keep an eye out for anything similar. Spread the word, would you?"

"You got it." Alec pulled her into a hug before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

"I like him," Jace said sleepily. "He has a nice face."

Smiling slightly, Clary climbed onto the bed beside him and kissed his forehead softly. "Get some rest, okay?"

A rumbling snore answered her. Clary checked his shoulder again; it was healed, pink scar tissue stretching across the wound. Wearily, she flopped onto her back, her hand going automatically to her stomach. Whatever she had said to Alec, she couldn't shake the memory of the demon that had stabbed Jace, and the way it had said _mine..._

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick reminder****—as I said in my author's note last chapter, I will be uploading Wednesdays and Saturdays for Part II. If you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! Thanks so much for reading.**

**~4L**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Clary. Wake up."

She opened her eyes with difficulty; her lashes were sticky. The room glowed with the soft beginnings of dawn, a hazy shimmer of gold on the horizon. She sat up slowly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

"How bad was it?" said Jace.

She shrugged. "The same as usual."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She stared at her hands, knotted together in her lap. "I dreamed he was back," she said dully. "We were in his realm. He'd k—" Her voice fizzled out, and she swallowed. "He'd killed you. And Simon, Izzy...everyone I loved. I could see them all laid out behind him. Like a battlefield. It was so quiet..."

Jace took her hand. She shifted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'll be okay," she said softly. "One day at a time, right?"

He kissed the top of her head. "That's right."

Clary stared out the window, watching the sunlight begin to pour through the gaps between the buildings. She laid her hand on her rounded belly, stroking it absentmindedly.

"Feeling okay?" said Jace, noticing. She made a noise of assent, not wanting to turn away from the sunrise. Jace put his arm around her, and she instinctively curled against him, a long-practiced habit. "You know," said Jace, his voice a low murmur into her hair, "I've been thinking some more about names."

She looked up at that. "Have you?"

"Yeah. Well, a little. I mean, they're just ideas."

Clary sat up a little straighter; it was such a novelty to see Jace this flustered that she wanted to make sure she was getting a full view of him. "Well, let's hear them," she said, smiling at him.

"I thought..." His ears went slightly pink. "I thought maybe Alexander." He rubbed the back of his head. "I know its cheesy and sentimental and all that, but I want his name to be important to us. And Alec is...he deserves this. I feel like I want to do this for him."

Clary mulled it over for a moment, rolling the name around in her head. "I like it," she said eventually. "I do...but won't it get confusing, having two Alexanders?"

"I guess," said Jace, looking disappointed. "Maybe as a middle name?"

"I actually already had an idea for a middle name," Clary said apologetically. Jace gestured for her to go on, and now it was her turn to be flustered. She bit her lip. "Jonathan."

"Oh," Jace said softly. "Clary, are you sure? I mean, I know why. But you don't think..."

"It'll be too painful?" She rubbed her hands across her stomach. "I don't know. Maybe. But it feels right to me. Like we could raise him the way Jonathan should have been raised. Like he could maybe get a second chance. And I wouldn't—I wouldn't pick it as a first name, I don't think. But to have some part of his name be after my brother...I think I'd like that."

Jace smiled. "I think it's a good idea."

She met his eyes. "You do?"

"Yeah." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're right. It feels like it fits."

Clary exhaled. She hadn't realized until then how much she had wanted to name the baby after Jonathan, but it did feel right. A way to honor her brother, and in a way, her mother, too. To honor the child she had lost.

"Well, we need a first name, too," Jace said. "Unless we're going to go around calling him Blank Jonathan."

"It has a ring to it," said Clary. Jace chuckled. "Any ideas? Besides Alec."

"I did have one more, actually," Jace said. "Tessa's told you about her first husband, right?"

"Yeah, Jem's _parabatai_," Clary said. "Will Herondale." She looked at him. "William?"

"Yeah," said Jace. "I think it would be nice to name him after one of my ancestors. And I think it would mean a lot to Jem and Tessa, too."

"I like it," Clary said, smiling. "We should probably ask them if they're okay with it first, but...it feels right."

"It's settled, then." Jace held up his hands as if he were seeing it on a marquee. "William Jonathan Herondale. The newest of the historically badass and hot Herondale family."

"I hope you're including me as badass and hot," Clary said.

"Are you kidding?" Jace demanded. "You're the most badass and hot person I know. I mean, second to me, of course."

"I'm flattered," said Clary, laughing. Her stomach fluttered nervously; she shivered. "God, it feels so real all of a sudden. Like, we're having a baby."

"Wait, did you not get the memo?" said Jace, looking shocked. Clary rolled her eyes, bumping his shoulder with hers. He clasped it, giving an exaggerated gasp.

"Oh, please, that healed a month ago," Clary said, exasperated.

Jace chuckled. "Add a point to your badass column for that," he said. "I don't know how you managed to get me back to the Institute."

"You were saying some very interesting things that night," Clary said, smiling slyly. "Alec was right, I should have taken a video for blackmail."

"Hate to break it to you, but I have a long list of things you've said to me during sex that I could use against you," said Jace very seriously.

Clary laughed. "Ditto. What would the world say if they knew that the legendary Jace Herondale has a spot on his body that makes him whimper like a little puppy when I kiss it?"

"Do they call me legendary?" said Jace, looking pleased.

Clary rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to blackmail you, and you're taking all the fun out of it."

"I, for one, am finding this _very_ fun," said Jace, leaning over to brush his lips against hers. She smiled, reciprocating. Her hands traveled slowly down his body.

"Are you trying to find that spot?"

"Maybe."

Jace laughed, pulling her against him. "You're devious, you know that?"

"Learned from the best," said Clary, kissing his cheek. Jace slid his arm down around her waist, letting his hand rest on the bed beside her. After a moment, Clary took it and laid it on top of her stomach, putting her hands over his.

"What if it's a girl?" Jace asked.

Clary shook her head. "I really think it's a boy. But if it's a girl, I have no idea what to name her. I feel like boy names are easier, somehow."

"Yeah, I couldn't think of a single girl name," Jace sighed. "It's because girls are so complicated all the time."

"I'll tell Isabelle you said that."

Jace blanched. "Don't you dare."

Clary chuckled, leaning into him. "If you say so."

They sat there for a long moment. The sun had risen higher, light beginning to spill over the tops of the smaller buildings down the block. The sky turned a soft baby pink.

Clary's phone chimed. She pulled away from Jace slightly to check it, seeing a text from Jocelyn: _Hi, baby. Are you busy today? Haven't seen you in a while and miss you lots._

"Anything important?" Jace asked as she texted back.

"Just my mom," Clary said. _Miss you too. Let's do lunch at the Institute._ _1pm okay?_

Her mother replied. _Perfect. See you then. Love you._

_Love you too._

"She's coming over for lunch," Clary told Jace, setting her phone back down.

"Sounds nice." Jace stroked her hair. "What time is it?"

"Forgot to check," said Clary. "But as long as we don't know, we can pretend it's not time to get up yet."

Jace kissed the top of her own head. "Now there's the amazing, intelligent woman I married."

Clary snuggled into him as the sun broke into the sky.

* * *

The doorbell rang at precisely one in the afternoon. Clary stood up from the desk, grateful for the reprieve from the latest dull form she was filling out. She strode across the library, passing Jace at the table. He saluted as he wearily crossed out something he was writing.

"Your handwriting looks like chicken scratch," Clary told him, pausing and squinting at the form in front of him.

"Ugh." He tossed the pen down. "It's because my hand is cramping. This is, like, the twentieth demon report I'm filling out. How many demons could we possibly have found this month?"

"Probably more than twenty," Clary pointed out. He mumbled something incoherent and picked up the pen again. Smiling exasperatedly, Clary walked past him and out of the library, heading toward the front doors.

She pulled them open to find Jocelyn standing on the porch, holding a tray covered in foil. A large tote bag was slung over her shoulder. "I made lasagna," she said by way of greeting.

"Thanks, Mom." Clary glanced past her to see Luke's truck idling at the side of the road; upon seeing her, he waved and then pulled away from the curb, driving off down the block. "Come on in," Clary said, standing aside to admit her mother.

"You're growing," said Jocelyn, beaming as they walked down the hallway together.

Clary rested her hand on her stomach. "Nineteen weeks as of yesterday. The Silent Brothers say everything's right on track."

"I got you some pregnancy books," Jocelyn said, indicating the tote bag. "And I brought some of my old maternity clothes for you. I'm sure there's some stuff in there you'll like."

"Oh, good," Clary said, laughing. "I'm running out of baggy sweaters."

They arrived in the kitchen and Jocelyn set the tray on the counter, then went over to the oven to preheat it. "Have you felt any movement yet?" she asked as she shucked the tote bag off and set it on the table. "I started feeling it around this time."

"Not yet," said Clary, pulling a stool out from under the counter and sitting on it.

"Oh, it's so magical when you do," Jocelyn said, leaning back against the counter. "Well, at first. But when the baby gets bigger and starts kicking you in the ribs, it gets a little less magical."

Clary laughed. "That sounds amazing. I can't wait for him to start feeling more like a little person."

"You'll regret those words," Jocelyn warned her. She peeled back the foil on the lasagna, crumpling it so that the beads of water on the underside couldn't fall into the tray. Clary leaned forward, her stomach grumbling loudly. Jocelyn chuckled. "Fifteen minutes. I promise."

"I don't know if I can wait that long," said Clary, grinning. "I could honestly just eat it cold."

"Trust me, it's worth the wait." The oven beeped, and Jocelyn opened the door and slid the tray off the counter and into the oven in one swift movement. It was times like this when Clary remembered that her mother had once been a Shadowhunter, trained from birth to be quick and agile and steady. Trained to slay demons. Clary smiled at the thought that her mother's skills could be used in something as ordinary as cooking.

A faint beeping sound reached her ears from down the hall; she recognized it as the sound of the magnified Sensor in the library, which alerted them to demon activity within a mile radius. She ignored it, trusting that Jace could handle whatever it was.

Having set the oven timer, Jocelyn pulled out a stool and sat opposite Clary. "So how have you been?" she asked. "I feel like it's been weeks since I've seen you."

"I know," Clary sighed. "We should start doing Sunday dinners again. But I've been good, mostly."

"Mostly?" said Jocelyn, with a knowing look in her eye. "You look tired, baby. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, just having trouble sleeping," said Clary, looking away.

Jocelyn hummed in response. "I had insomnia the second trimester. Sleeping runes might help."

Clary nodded absently. She hadn't told anyone but Jace that she was still having nightmares; not even Simon knew. Slowly, she had begun to tell Jace the truth about the dreams Beelzebub had sent her. Every time she told him another detail, she felt the weight on her shoulders lighten slightly.

"Are you okay?" Jocelyn said. "You look a million miles away."

"Yeah," said Clary, snapping back to focus. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"Baby stuff?"

Clary rolled her eyes. "You sound like Maryse. Baby stuff is all she ever wants to talk about." It was why Clary tried very hard to busy herself with work whenever Maryse came to visit, which was often. On the rare occasion that she managed to catch Clary, she would bombard her with questions until Jace pulled her away on the pretense of "Why don't we have a cup of tea? I've missed you." Eternally grateful, Clary would later reward him in ways he couldn't resist.

"Actually, I do have a baby thing," Clary said now, remembering. "Jace and I were talking about names this morning, and I wanted your opinion."

"Mine?" Jocelyn said, looking surprised. "How come?"

"Well..." Clary hesitated. "If it's a boy, we were thinking about his middle name being Jonathan." Her mother's face tightened almost imperceptibly, but Clary plowed forward. "I know it's not easy for you, and we won't use it if you're not comfortable with it, but—"

"No," Jocelyn said softly. "No, you should use it."

Clary watched her. "Really?"

Jocelyn sighed. "It does hurt. I can't pretend it doesn't. But I think it's a good way to honor him. And maybe the name will come to mean something new, with this baby."

"Yes. Exactly." Clary leaned forward. "Are you sure you're okay with it?"

"Yeah," Jocelyn exhaled. "I think it's beautiful, Clary. And...thank you."

Clary smiled. At that moment, she heard footsteps approaching; she turned around as Jace entered the kitchen. "Hey, good news," Clary said, "we can..." She trailed off, seeing the expression on his face. "What's wrong?" she said, her stomach fluttering.

"Don't freak out," said Jace warningly.

She crossed her arms. "That is _so_ not a good way to start a conversation."

Jace took a deep breath. "There's a demon in a warehouse downtown. A big one."

Clary read his face. "You're going, aren't you?"

"I have to," said Jace, sounding apologetic. "Something this big—you know I have to check it out."

"You're going," said Clary again, "and I'm staying. Right?"

"Clary," said Jace gently, "please."

She looked at him for a long moment. "You're not going alone," she decided. "Take someone with you. Simon or Isabelle or Alec, just bring someone."

"Okay," Jace said, looking relieved.

"And..." She slid off the stool, approaching him. Her insides were fluttering again. "Be careful, okay?" she said in a low voice. She put a hand on her stomach, imagining she could feel the butterflies against her hand. "Don't be reckless. Don't be stupid. Just keep your head down and do what you need to do."

It was a mark of the intensity in her tone that Jace didn't try to diffuse her with a quip. Instead, he bent down and kissed her lightly. "I promise. I'll be careful."

She let him go, watching him as he hastened down the hallway, heading toward the armory. Exhaling slowly, she turned and sat back down at the counter. Jocelyn was watching her, but said nothing.

They sat in silence for a long time. By now, Jace was probably gathering his gear and weapons, consulting his mental checklist for anything he might have missed. It was the kind of thing he liked, the careful strategy and planning, the preparation for the fight. Though, in a way, he was always prepared for a fight. It was why he brought weapons along on a late-night walk, why he kept a Sensor in their bedside drawer, extra seraph blades in their closet. He'd been brought up to expect a demon attack at any moment and trained to be on his guard every moment. Not for the first time, Clary longed for her old life, when demons and magic didn't exist, and when love seemed simpler.

"You know," said Clary quietly, "sometimes I wonder whether I'm doing the right thing. Bringing a child into this world. Condemning him to a lifetime of demon killing. It can't exactly be a happy childhood."

"Every world has its problems, Clary," Jocelyn said gently. "I felt the same way bringing you into the mundane world. It's natural to want to protect your child from the world, to want them to be happy and blissfully ignorant. That's what any mom wants. But it isn't realistic in this world or any other. You bring a child into the world and then you love them and do your best to make them happy. That's a mom's job."

"Yeah." Clary wrapped her arms around her stomach. "I just hope it's enough."

* * *

The warehouse was a shabby gray building against the sleek glass and shining metal of its neighbors. It sat plain and squat at the end of the block, almost as if it were trying to hide in the corner. The windows had been covered with brown craft paper, a tattered "For Sale" sign tacked up in one corner.

"Took you long enough," said Isabelle as Jace approached. She was sitting on the steps, propped on her elbows with her long legs stretched out in front of her.

"I walked," Jace said, climbing the steps. His weapons clanked against each other. Isabelle looked him up and down.

"I don't think you brought enough weapons," she said. "What is that, two swords, seven daggers, and three seraph blades?"

"_Eight_ daggers," Jace said. Isabelle gave an exasperated sigh. At the sound of footsteps, Jace turned to see Alec coming around the side of the building, holding a Sensor.

"Just one," he said, answering Jace's unasked question. "But I think it's a Greater Demon. And I scouted ahead a bit, this place is a maze. It'll be tricky to find him."

"Well, I always like a good challenge," said Jace. He looked around. "Where's Simon?"

"He didn't come," Alec said, sounding oddly cautious.

"Why not?"

"He's busy," Isabelle said, but she didn't elaborate. Jace glanced at Alec; he shook his head warningly.

"O...kay then," said Jace. "Runes?"

They took turns inking runes of Strength, Night-Vision, and Agility on each other. Once Alec had traced a final Mark onto Jace's neck, Jace drew a seraph blade out of his belt and led the way into the warehouse. Isabelle and Alec followed.

Clouds of dust plumed up around Jace's feet as he stepped through the door; the place had clearly been abandoned for years. In the dim light from outside, he could see the main room stretching out before them, several large grates marking further storage along the walls.

Alec shut the door behind them, plunging them into total darkness. Jace pulled his witchlight stone out of his pocket, rubbing his thumb across it so that it glowed dully, just enough to see by. Alec and Isabelle mirrored him. Squinting at them, Jace made a series of complicated hand gestures, indicating that he would scout the left side while Isabelle and Alec took the right. Isabelle frowned, shook her head, and set off by herself toward the left. Jace raised an eyebrow at Alec.

"Don't ask," he said in a low voice. "I tried talking to her and she got all touchy. She's being really weird."

"I can hear you!" came Isabelle's sharp whisper through the darkness. Jace and Alec exchanged a look before splitting up, Alec following Isabelle and Jace moving toward the right.

The grates were made of corrugated metal; a groove along the top indicated that they rolled up into the ceiling. Jace gripped the handle at the bottom of the nearest one and tugged; with a loud screech and a spray of rust, the grate lifted off the ground and retreated into the ceiling.

"Jace!" Isabelle hissed. "Haven't you ever heard of being stealthy?"

Jace ignored her, venturing into the space. Lifting his witchlight to cast the light into the corners, he could see that more storage spaces branched off of this one. Alec had been right; it really was something of a maze. As he moved forward, his Sensor clicked softly against his leg. He pulled it out of his pocket and continued to advance, the clicking growing steadily louder.

He paused in front of the last grate, listening intently. His Sensor was growing warm in his hand; he stuffed it back into his pocket and pressed his ear against the grate. For a moment, he heard nothing—then, so quiet he almost missed it, a shuffling noise. Deftly, Jace pulled out his stele and carved a silencing rune into the grate. Then, in one swift movement, he yanked it up and turned the witchlight over in his hand, letting light explode into the room. There was a loud screech of pain.

"Ah," Jace said, grinning. "Gotcha."

* * *

"Izzy," said Alec. She made no sign of having heard him, moving ahead and pausing to listen every so often. "_Izzy._"

"What?" she snapped.

Alec blinked. "Um...what's wrong?"

"I'm trying to find a demon and you keep distracting me," said Isabelle shortly, squinting at the storage compartment next to her, apparently deeming it non-threatening, and moving on to the next one.

"Iz, you know what I mean. If you want to talk—"

"Have I given _any_ indication that I want to talk?" said Isabelle heatedly.

"Well—"

She spun around to face him. "Yes, I'm upset. Yes, it's because of Simon. No, I don't want to talk about it. That about answer all of your questions?"

"Not even slightly."

Isabelle gave him a withering look and turned away, proceeding to the next grate. She pressed her ear against it. "Ugh, I can't hear anything. Here, give me your stele." He handed it over, watching as she inked an Audio rune into her wrist.

"What, um...what were you guys fighting about?" Alec asked cautiously.

Isabelle gave an exasperated huff. "Are you seriously not going to let this go?"

"Izzy," Alec said quietly. "You know I just want to help."

She sighed. "We were fighting about...Jace and Clary."

"What?" said Alec, completely nonplussed. "Why were you...wait," he said, a sudden realization dawning on him. "Isabelle, you're not—you know—pregnant?"

"I'm _not_," said Isabelle crossly. "Why would you even jump to that conclusion?"

"Well, I mean, you've been acting really weird, and I see the way you've been looking at Clary lately—"

"No, never mind, I don't care," Isabelle said, cutting him off. "Can we please just drop it?"

Alec opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, a faint screech sounded from somewhere deep in the warehouse. He spun around.

"Damn it, Jace, why can't you ever just _wait?_" Isabelle muttered, shoving past Alec and taking off back toward where Jace had been investigating. Alec followed, hot on her heels.

* * *

"Hey," said Jace, leaning against the wall. "What's up?"

The demon scowled at him. At least, Jace thought it was a scowl. It was difficult to tell, given the large amounts of blubbery flesh that surrounded the demon's mouth. At first glance, the demon looked simply like a mound of fat, but closer inspection revealed hard scales and, disturbingly, many fanged mouths spread across its body.

"You," the demon snarled.

"Have we met?" Jace said, intrigued. "I think I would remember someone of your...um...ponderousness."

"HUMAN!"

"Ah," Jace said, nodding knowingly. "I see. You hate _all_ humans. Well, lucky for you, pal, I'm _superhuman_. Or, you know, people call me that. I try not to let the fame go to my head, personally." He took a step forward, raising his seraph blade. "_Amriel!_" The blade burst to life. "Right," said Jace as the demon cowered from the blinding light. "This handy device here will send you back to hell on the express line, but it can also do a lot of damage before that. So I'd suggest you start talking."

The demon spat; Jace ducked as a large loogey flew over his head and hit the wall with a wet _splat_.

"Okay, _rude_," said Jace, straightening. "And also gross. Now, look, I could hit you back with an impressive glob of spit, considering the size of my mouth compared to yours, but why don't we handle this like civilized people—uh—creatures? You can start by telling me your name and why you're here. I'll demonstrate." He gave a little bow. "Hi, I'm Jace, and I'm here to kill you. Your turn."

The demon's face contorted. "I am _Hunger_."

"Interesting, interesting," said Jace, leaning back against the wall. "I, too, turn into a monster when I'm hungry. Or so my wife says." He pointed the seraph blade casually at Hunger. "And your reason for stopping by?"

"I was sent," said Hunger. "My master is looking for someone."

Jace stood up straight. "I see," he said, all joking manner leaving him. "And who might that be?"

"A boy," said the demon with a glistening smile. "One who killed someone very powerful. Perhaps you know him."

Jace felt his stomach sink. _Oh, Clary is going to kill me_. "Do you happen to know his name?" he asked, feigning innocence.

The demon gave a chuckle that sounded like bubbles of thick liquid popping. "I know his name, Jace Herondale." The mouths along his body opened, stretching widely and snapping their sharp teeth. "You are _mine_."

Hunger lunged, but Jace sidestepped easily, avoiding the demon's girth. The demon gave a roar, lumbering toward him, and Jace slashed out with the seraph blade, cutting one of the mouths in half. Ichor rolled sluggishly down the demon's side.

"You know, if your _master_ wanted me captured, maybe he shouldn't have sent literally the most obese demon he could find," Jace pointed out, dancing aside as the demon reached for him again. This time, he was less lucky; though he avoided Hunger's hands, one of the mouths latched onto his arm, teeth digging in. Jace tore himself free, thrusting the seraph blade into the mouth. It sizzled, its light dimming. Jace yanked it out and tossed it aside.

"Ouch," he said mildly as his arm smarted. Hunger gave a wet snarl, rolling toward him—and something silvery shot through the air, embedding itself in his neck.

"_Why_," Isabelle demanded, marching forward as Hunger screeched in pain and tore out the dagger, "do you try to do _everything_ by yourself?"

"I'm a strong, independent man who don't need no woman," Jace said, backing up as the demon rounded on him again.

"You need to stop picking up pop-culture references from Simon," Isabelle told him, unwinding her whip from around her wrist and flicking it at the demon, deftly opening up three cuts in his back. As the demon shrieked, an arrow drove through his shoulder; Jace turned, catching sight of Alec sliding along the wall, keeping to the shadows as he nocked another arrow in his bow.

Jace pulled his sword out of its sheath. "Hey!" he bellowed as Hunger squinted toward where the arrow had come from, his beady eyes searching the darkness. The demon turned back around just as Jace leapt into the air, severing Hunger's head from his body. Jace rode the body down, jumping off it as the head thudded to the ground and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop at Isabelle's feet.

"Oh, _ew_," she said, kicking it back toward the body as the demon began to fold in on itself, taking its head with it. "What even _was_ that thing? It's disgusting."

"Hunger," said Alec, emerging from the shadows. "A Greater Demon known for eating everything in sight. I'm surprised it didn't try to eat you, Jace."

"Thanks, Encyclopedia Alec," Isabelle said, rolling her eyes.

Alec frowned at her. "The information is relevant, thank you very much. If the demon didn't want to eat Jace, it must have been here for a reason." He turned to Jace. "Did it tell you anything?"

"Nope," said Jace immediately. "Just wanted to eat me. I managed to avoid it." He glanced at his arm. "Mostly."

"Let me see," Alec said, taking Jace's arm gently and pushing up his sleeve. Jace let him examine the wound, watching as he pulled out his stele and carefully traced an _iratze_ beside it. Jace's heart was thudding with dread in his chest. Magnus had warned him of this, had told him there would be consequences. But it wasn't the fact that someone was looking for him that worried him; it was what they wanted to do with him once they caught him.

"Thanks," he said quickly, pulling his arm out of Alec's grip and tugging his sleeve back down. "I should get back to the Institute, Clary's waiting for me."

"Everything okay with you two?" said Alec.

"Yeah," Jace said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Alec glanced briefly at Isabelle. "No reason."

"Hm," said Jace, following his gaze. "Simon issues?" he asked Isabelle.

She scowled. "_Both _of you need to butt out of my marriage!"

"Hey," Jace said, holding his hands up. "I'm not judging. I just want you to know that if you need someone to kick his ass, I'm your guy. No questions asked."

Isabelle frowned at him. "Go home, Jace."

He nodded and traipsed away, sheathing his sword.

* * *

"Clary, what's wrong?" said Jocelyn. "You've barely touched your food."

"Sorry. It's good," said Clary, reluctantly putting a bite of lasagna into her mouth.

"I know it is," Jocelyn said. "That's not what I meant."

Clary sighed, setting down her fork. "He should have been back by now," she said, looking at her watch.

"It's barely been an hour," Jocelyn said. "I'm sure he's fine."

Her tone was soothing, but Clary's nerves continued to thrum. She stood and went to the sink, filling up a glass just for something to do. As she sipped at the water, she wondered if she should try his cell phone, or perhaps check the Sensor in the library for a sign of the demon having been dispatched. _Calm down_, she told herself. _Mom's right. He's probably fine_. It felt as if her mind and body had separated; no matter how logical or rational she tried to be, her insides continued to flutter anxiously.

"Clary," Jocelyn said, cutting through her thoughts. "Come sit back down. There's no use worrying."

"I know." Clary sighed, her hand going automatically to her stomach. "I just can't shake this bad feeling."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just...I'm anxious. I'm all shaky, and I have butterflies."

Jocelyn's expression changed. "Butterflies?"

"Well, yeah," Clary said slowly. "Why is that—oh. Oh my God." She pressed her hands against her belly. "Oh my God, I'm a total idiot. He's _kicking_, isn't he?"

"I think so!" Jocelyn said, her eyes shining with joy.

Clary felt another gentle fluttering inside her, and this time she could feel it against her palms. "He's _kicking_," she said again, tears welling up in her eyes. "Mom, come here, come feel."

Jocelyn obliged, coming around the table and resting a hand on Clary's stomach. Again, Clary felt that soft quickening in her belly. "I felt it!" Jocelyn said excitedly.

Clary gave a shaky exhale, leaning back against the counter as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"What's wrong?" Jocelyn said.

Clary shook her head, smiling softly. "I guess, after everything that happened...and I know the Silent Brothers said he was fine, but...I guess I didn't believe it until now." She ran her hands across her belly. "He's kicking."

Jocelyn smiled. "I told you it was magical."

Clary heard the sound of the front doors opening. She stood up straight. "I have to—"

"Go," Jocelyn said, pushing her toward the door. "I'll wait here."

Clary gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying out of the kitchen and down the hall. She found Jace in the entrance hall, unloading his weapons belt. "Jace!" she cried.

His head snapped up; he looked alarmed. Before he could say anything, Clary had launched herself at him, squeezing him tightly.

"Careful," he said, gently prying her away from him. "There's ichor on my gear."

"Give me your hand," Clary demanded.

"Huh?"

Impatiently, Clary grabbed his hand and set it on her stomach. A moment later, she felt a quickening.

"Wha..." Jace looked at her. "Is that—"

"Yeah," said Clary, beaming. "He's kicking!"

Jace's face broke into a smile. "Wow. That's—that's amazing." Clary reached up and pulled him into a kiss; he sank into it for a moment before gently pulling away. Smiling briefly, he turned away to remove the rest of his gear.

Clary's smile faded. "What's wrong?" she said, examining his face.

"Nothing," he said, removing his weapons belt and letting it fall to the ground. "Just tired." He stripped himself of the rest of his gear and gathered it into his arms. "I think I'm going to go take a nap," he said.

"Jace..."

He bent his neck to kiss her lightly. "I'll come back down in a bit, okay?"

And before she could say anything else, he set off down the hallway. She stared after him, her hand sliding back down to her belly as the child within her moved again.

* * *

**A/N: First Wednesday upload! I hope you're enjoying having two chapters per week. If you liked this chapter, please leave a review! As always, thanks for reading.**

**~4L**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Jace awoke still tangled in dreams of scarlet-eyed demons and hissing laughter.

Cool, gray light filtered through the window, turning the bedroom silver. A light breeze carried snowflakes past the window. Jace watched as the snow began to drift to the ground, dusting the trees below. The sight calmed his thundering heart, slowing his pulse. He had always liked snow; in Idris, he had liked to sit in the window seat and read as the green land outside turned steadily white. When he had come to New York, he had learned to associate snow with hot chocolate, sledding, and snowball fights (Max had always wanted to be on Jace's team, and they had eventually formed a strategy together, Max packing the balls between his small gloved hands and Jace taking aim at Alec and Isabelle). Snow had quickly become one of his favorite things. Exhaling slowly, he turned his head toward another of his favorites.

Clary was still asleep, snoring softly with her mouth slightly open. She had been having fewer and fewer nightmares lately; Jace relished these moments when he could watch her sleep without worrying she would wake in terror. He reached over and pulled a lock of hair away from her mouth. She slept on peacefully, every breath causing the sheets around the mound of her belly to rise and fall slightly.

"How big is a squash?" Clary had said the previous night, squinting at the pregnancy book she was reading in bed. She had already changed into pajamas; reluctant to stretch out her tank tops, she had taken to wearing Jace's t-shirts to bed, something he found very attractive.

"I think it depends on the squash," Jace said as he pulled on his own pajamas. "Why?"

"It says that's the size of the baby." She set the book down, holding up her fingers until they were about ten inches apart. "So...that big?"

Jace went over to look at the book. "This thing is full of crap," he decided. "Why can't they just put the actual size instead of comparing it to fruits and vegetables?"

Clary glared at him, wrapping her arms protectively around her belly. "No swearing," she said sternly. "The baby can hear you."

"Really?" said Jace interestedly.

"Mm-hmm." Clary indicated a passage in the book. "So from now on, no more swearing."

"But the baby doesn't know what swear words are," Jace said, rolling his eyes.

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it abruptly, cradling her belly with a tiny smile.

"Is he kicking again?" Jace said.

"Yeah." Clary leaned back, closing her eyes as she ran her hands over her belly. "He's getting stronger, too." She opened her eyes again, smiling at Jace. He returned the smile, bending to kiss her lightly before lifting the pregnancy book from her hands and setting it down on the bedside table.

"Bedtime," he said.

Clary laughed. "You're starting to sound like a dad," she told him, reaching over to flick off the light.

Now, Jace stared at her stomach, remembering how she had said the baby could hear him. Curious, he shifted carefully in the bed until his head was facing her belly. "Clary?" he said tentatively. She slept on. Clearing his throat, Jace said in a low voice, "Baby? Hello?"

The bump didn't move.

"Okay, I realize this isn't a telephone and you can't respond," Jace said, feeling very foolish. "But I thought maybe we should talk, you know, man to man—or, I mean, dad to kid. Something like that. Before your mom gets involved, I mean, because while she'll have many important things to tell you, I feel like there are some things _I_ should tell you."

Clary shifted, and Jace froze, staring at her. But she simply turned her head and continued to sleep.

"Um," Jace said, getting back on track. "Right. So. First, no matter what your mom says, never trust a duck. Avoid them at all costs. Oh, and also demons, if you can. Seeing as you're my son, I'm sure you'll want to go chasing down demons the minute you're born, but I already give your mom enough anxiety, and I don't think she needs any more from you. Actually, you give her anxiety, too, but that's beside the point. Speaking of your mom, she really loves you, despite the aforementioned anxiety. So go easy on her, okay? Oh, and I love you, too. I don't know if I mentioned that." Jace paused. "I really love you. And I can't wait to meet you." He bit his lip. "What else...oh, don't let your uncle Simon teach you how to fight. He's okay with a bow and arrow, but he's also an idiot, so—"

"Jace," Clary murmured without opening her eyes, "stop corrupting the baby."

Jace jerked back with a yelp. "Clary! What—how long have you been awake?" he demanded.

"Pretty much the whole time," Clary said, blinking sleepily and yawning as she struggled to sit up. "Oh, don't look at me like that," she added as he scowled. "It's not _my_ fault. He kicks every time he hears your voice, and obviously all the wriggling is going to wake me up. I swear he never sits still for more than five minutes," she griped, though she was smiling.

"Yeah, well, you could've—wait, does he really kick when I talk?"

Her smile widened. "See for yourself." She took his hand and positioned it on her belly. "Okay...now say something."

"Um," said Jace. "Hi, there...baby...thing...you know, this was a lot easier when I thought you were—oh!"

He broke off as something beat against his palm. "Wow, you weren't kidding," he said, grinning. "I think he's practicing fighting off demons in there."

"Wouldn't surprise me," said Clary with a laugh. "I have a feeling he's going to be a lot like his dad." She sat back. "That was very sweet, by the way," she said. "All the stuff you were saying."

Jace felt his face grow hot. "It was also _personal_. Between the baby and me."

"Well, I don't know how you thought that would work, considering the baby is _inside me_," said Clary, grinning at him.

Jace leaned forward, addressing her belly. "You should know that I'm not usually this cheesy and sentimental," he told it. "I'm a very macho man, in fact."

Clary laughed, resting a hand on his head. "Oh, please, you're a total softie."

"I have a reputation to protect, woman!"

"Not from me," Clary said.

Jace stretched out, propping his head on his elbow. "No. Not from you," he said, reaching out to play with a strand of her hair. "Never from you."

She looked down at him; she seemed to be steeling herself for something. "And you don't keep secrets either, right?"

Jace sat up slowly, searching her eyes. There was something almost accusatory in them. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"I know you've been haven't been sleeping well. Ever since you went out to fight that demon in the warehouse."

Jace sighed, looking away. "I wish I could say you were wrong."

"Tell me," said Clary quietly. "We promised, no more secrets, remember?"

"I know," Jace said. "You're right. I should have told you sooner. I just didn't want you to worry, not until I was sure what was happening." Clary watched him closely, her eyes filled with apprehension. He took her hand. "The demon was looking for me," he said, before he could change his mind. "And I think those Raveners were, too."

Clary swallowed visibly. "Why?"

"Because I killed Beelzebub." He ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. "Magnus said killing a Prince of Hell would have consequences. The demon in the warehouse told me its master wanted me because I'd killed someone powerful."

He chanced a look at Clary; her eyes were brimming with tears. "Hey," he said quickly. "It's okay. We don't know who it is, or what they want from me. It could be nothing."

"It's not nothing," Clary whispered, pulling her hand out of his. "What if they want to kill you?"

"We don't know," Jace said again. "And as long as we don't know, there's no point worrying about it, okay?" He reached for her, but she pulled away, swinging her legs out of bed and gathering up her robe.

"This is something we should worry about!" she said. "Aren't you even the least bit worried that a demon is looking for you?"

"It might not be a demon. It could be a warlock," Jace pointed out.

"And that's better?" Clary sounded furious. "It doesn't change the fact that you killed a Prince of Hell and someone might want to hurt you for it! Why are you acting like that doesn't matter?"

"I can take care of myself," said Jace, starting to get annoyed.

Clary closed her eyes. "Of course you can." She pulled on her robe, wrapping it tightly around herself. "You know, more and more, I'm beginning to think you're lying to me," she said quietly.

"Lying?"

"About being careful. About not taking any risks." She put a hand on her belly. "About wanting this family."

"Clary," said Jace quietly, but she shook her head.

"I asked you, months ago, if you meant it when you said having a family was worth more than fighting. Has your answer really changed at all?"

"Of course it has!" Jace said, climbing out of bed to face her. "You can't seriously believe I meant all that crap I said about not wanting to be a dad."

"Actually, that's the one thing I'm sure you were sincere about," Clary said, folding her arms. "And when I asked you if I should get the abortion, and you said you wanted me more than the baby—"

"That's not fair," Jace said, pointing a shaking finger at her. "That was an impossible decision. What was I supposed to have said?"

"I know." Clary passed a hand over her eyes. "You're right. I know I can't hold that against you." She looked back at him. "But I can't help but think that nothing's changed with you," she said softly. "You say all this stuff about loving us, but when a battle calls you run toward it without a glance back. And I'm not even sure it's your fault. Like you said, it's the way Valentine brought you up, to value fighting more than love and family."

"I _did_ change," Jace said, his voice cracking. "You know I did. Would I have fallen in love with you otherwise?" He approached her, and she didn't back away. "You weren't brought up in this world, Clary," he said. "But Shadowhunters do have families, and they don't stop fighting. Even Alec still fights, and he loves his family more than anything."

"He doesn't fight the way you do," Clary said. "He never has. He's always been the careful one, and you've always been the reckless one, the one who jumps in headfirst without thinking. The way you ask me to stay behind, the way you don't want me to fight anymore—why can't you be that way about yourself?"

There was a long silence.

"Clary," Jace said finally. "You have to believe that when I fight, I'm fighting to stay alive. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop going into dangerous situations, because that's my job. But it means that I'm fighting for you, and our baby, and everyone else we love. I'm fighting to come home to you. I will always come home to you."

"You don't know that," she whispered.

"Yes, I do," Jace said softly, pulling her into a hug. "I promise." Her stomach pressed against his; he could feel the baby moving. "I promise you, Clary."

* * *

The Sensor was beeping wildly.

Hopping on one foot, Simon attempted to simultaneously jam his other foot into a boot and stock his weapons belt. The result was that he nearly sliced off his finger with a dagger, toppled sideways, and crashed into the table, sending the Sensor into a pile of gear and muffling the sound.

"Izzy!" he called out, succeeding in pulling on his boot. "Any day now!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," said Isabelle's voice from somewhere in the apartment. A moment later, she emerged from the bedroom, winding her whip around her arm. She yanked her hair up into a ponytail and grabbed her own weapons belt, slinging it around her waist. "Why are you yelling at me when you're not even ready yet?" she snapped.

"I'm not..." Simon sighed, shaking his head as he retrieved the Sensor and pulled on his gear jacket. He tossed the other one to Isabelle, who turned away to put it on. "Izzy," he said, "can we please—"

"No time," Isabelle said shortly, grabbing the Sensor from him. "Come on." She moved past him, heading out of the apartment. Simon caught the door before it hit him in the face, eased it closed behind him, and followed her down the stairs.

"It's nearby," said Isabelle, holding the Sensor out in front of her. "Might be in the building. I'll check the laundry room, you get the basement." Before Simon could say anything, she disappeared around the corner. Running his fingers agitatedly through his hair, Simon opened the door leading down to the basement and began to descend the steps.

It wasn't long before he smelled it: the ripe stink of garbage that signaled a demon. Pulling out his phone, he dashed off a quick text to Isabelle before stowing it back in his pocket and trading it for his witchlight. He crept along the wall, his witchlight glancing off the metal storage cages with walls made of chain-link fencing. Something shifted in the corner of his vision; he leapt backward as a rat scurried past him, clearly fleeing from something.

"Yeah," Simon said. "I've been there, little guy."

He continued to move deeper into the depths of the basement, casting his witchlight into the shadows. Most of the storage compartments were full, but he came across one that was nearly empty. He stared at it for a moment; then, saying a silent apology to whoever owned the gray futon that looked as though it had recently been a bed for that rat and its friends, Simon carefully pulled out his stele and traced an opening rune on the lock. It clicked open, and he set it down on the floor, cracking the door open.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He spun around, drawing his sword just as a massive shadow lunged for him. He leapt out of the way, swiping his thumb over his witchlight so that the basement burst into light.

The demon looked as if Dr. Frankenstein had suddenly taken a liking for fusing human and animal parts together. Its body was vaguely humanoid but for its lion-like head and the scaly wings sprouting from its back, and its feet ended in talon-like claws. It was only a few feet taller than Simon. It seemed oddly pleased at the sight of him.

"Nephilim," it drawled. "I don't suppose you've brought your friends with you?"

"My—"

"Actually," said a voice from behind him, "he has."

A fiery lash of gold arced through the air, landing two quick slashes on the demon. It hissed, dropping down to all fours.

"Does this mean we're friends?" Simon asked hopefully as Isabelle came up next to him.

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Not _now,_ Simon." She advanced on the demon, flicking her whip again. "Now, what to do with you?"

The demon snarled, lunging at her. She spun away, flinging the whip toward it and opening another cut in its side. Ichor dripped onto the floor. Isabelle raised her whip into the air, and with a sharp flick of her wrist, it curled down and wrapped around the demon's neck. She began to pull it tight, ichor blooming where it cut into the demon's skin.

"Izzy, wait!" Simon shouted. He flung open the door to the storage cell. "In here!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Isabelle snapped. She yanked on the whip; the demon gave a guttural snarl.

"I have a hunch," Simon said. "Just trust me."

She surveyed him for a moment; then she pulled hard on the whip, forcing the demon to stagger toward the cell. Simon ran around to the other side of it, and together they corralled the demon into the cage. Simon took a moment to carve runes of binding and trapping into the concrete before slamming the door shut and relocking it. Isabelle pulled her whip free and wound it back around her wrist as the demon gasped, massaging its throat.

"Well?" Isabelle asked Simon. "What do you want to do with it?"

Simon turned to the demon. "Why would a demon want to come here, of all places?"

"I have my reasons," the demon said.

"You're looking for someone, aren't you?"

"What, like those Raveners, you mean?" Isabelle said, frowning at Simon.

Simon nodded. "Though I'm guessing you weren't looking for us. You asked about my friends."

"Yes," said the demon, glowering at him. "I want someone you know." It took a step toward them, then hissed as the runes glowed menacingly.

"Mm, I wouldn't try that," Simon said. "Even if you do somehow escape, you know we're just going to kill you anyway." He pointed his sword at the demon. "Let's start with your name."

"Pazuzu," said the demon, folding its arms.

"Wait, like from _The Exorcist_?" Simon asked, momentarily sidetracked.

The demon snarled. "That movie completely misrepresented me! I don't _possess_ people. And the effects were so clearly fake."

"Yeah, I get that," Simon sighed. "Although, to be fair, they were pretty good for the seventies. Plus, that scene where she comes down the stairs upside down is really freaky."

"Oh, please, that's child's play."

"No, that's the Chucky movie," Simon told it.

"Will you both _please_ shut up?" Isabelle snapped. "And since when do demons watch horror movies?"

The demon frowned. "Everyone's heard of _The Exorcist._"

"Okay, whatever, I don't care," said Isabelle, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. "Who are you looking for and why?"

A smile grew on the demon's face. "I believe you know him. A Shadowhunter named Jace Herondale."

Isabelle paled.

"Jeez, does the guy have enemies in all the dimensions?" Simon muttered.

"Not all of them," said the demon, grinning. "Just one in particular. My master is _very_ interested in him. And even if you kill me, someone else will find him."

"I'm willing to test that theory," Isabelle snarled, and before Simon could get out more than, "Wait!" she had flung a dagger through the holes of the pen. It drove into the demon's throat, causing ichor to spurt out of its neck as it collapsed and began to crumple in.

"We might have been able to get more out of it!" Simon said, whirling on Isabelle. She was breathing hard, watching the demon fold up.

"It said enough," Isabelle said. Her jacket had caught some of the ichor and was smoldering; she yanked it off. "Come on."

"Izzy, what's going on?" Simon said softly, catching her arm as she made to move past him.

"You heard what it said. Someone's after Jace. We have to tell him."

She tried to get past him again, but he blocked her way. "This isn't like you," Simon said. "You're not usually this..."

"This what?" Isabelle said, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Careless," Simon finished. She made a disbelieving noise and shoved him to the side, heading back toward the stairs. "Izzy," Simon called after her. "Come on. Please. I don't want to fight anymore."

"Oh, you don't?" Isabelle snapped, whirling back around. "Well, then I guess we're done fighting. Because you make all the decisions in this relationship, don't you?"

"Isabelle," Simon said quietly. "Can we please just talk?"

"I'm done talking." She turned away. "Let's go. We have to tell Jace what happened." She disappeared into the darkness before Simon could protest again. Sighing, he followed her.

* * *

"Jace. _Jace_."

He snapped out of his stupor, blinking up at Clary. She looked amused. "I called your name, like, five times. You didn't hear me?"

"Sorry," he said, leaning back in his chair and stretching. He was sitting at the desk in the library, various papers spread out in front of him. The orange light of the setting sun streamed through the window. "Just looking for any anomalies in the demon reports this month."

"You look like you need a break," Clary said.

He smiled wearily. "That would be nice."

"Well," said Clary slyly, "I do have a pressing matter I need your help attending to." She leaned forward over the desk. Jace's eyes flicked down to her chest; she was wearing a fitted sweater with a scoop neck that was dipping lower and lower... "It's _urgent_," Clary told him, her eyes glimmering.

"Oh?" Jace said, beginning to grin. "How can I assist?"

"I'm sure we'll find some use for you," Clary breathed, bending forward and kissing him. He gave a muffled moan, half standing up to lean into her. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him around the desk, pressing her body against his.

"Are you just using me for sex?" Jace murmured against her lips.

"Are you complaining?" Clary asked him, sitting down on the arm of the sofa and pulling her sweater over her head. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her: the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a scarlet waterfall, the hungry glitter in her emerald eyes, the soft swell of her belly.

"Definitely not," Jace said, his voice a little unsteady. Grinning, Clary pulled him down toward her, deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He kicked off his shoes, his hands sliding around her to undo her bra.

"Jace? Jace, are you—ahhh! Put your clothes on!"

They broke apart; blearily, Jace looked up to see Simon and Isabelle standing in the doorway. Simon had thrown his hand up over his eyes, while Isabelle simply looked exasperated. They were both wearing gear.

Blushing, Clary snatched up her sweater and yanked it on. "You could knock, you know!"

"You could have sex in less public places!" Simon pointed out, peeking through his fingers as Jace slid his arms through his shirt and hastily buttoned it up.

"It wasn't public until you showed up," said Clary irritably. "Besides, I'm pregnant and horny. I should get to have sex when I feel like it."

"We have a problem," Isabelle interrupted as Simon opened his mouth to respond.

"Yeah, the problem is that you two don't know the appropriate times to visit," Jace said.

"It's important!" Isabelle said. "We just found a demon in the basement of our building."

Jace straightened, staring at her. "What happened? Are you both okay?"

Isabelle waved a hand impatiently. "We're fine. Listen, the demon was looking for you, Jace."

Jace glanced at Clary; she had paled slightly, but there was a hardness to her gaze when she turned to look at him.

"Wait," Simon said, looking between them. "Did you already know?"

Jace sighed. "Sit down."

Clary slid off the arm of the sofa, settling herself into the corner of it. Her arm curled protectively around her belly. Jace sat beside her, and Simon and Isabelle took the armchairs opposite them. "Remember that demon a few weeks ago, in the warehouse?" Jace began.

"Hunger?" said Isabelle.

"This doesn't seem like a good time to eat," Simon said. Isabelle shot him a quelling look.

"The demon's name was Hunger," Jace clarified. "And it told me it was looking for me, too."

"Wait, and you didn't say anything?" Isabelle demanded. "Alec asked you point-blank—"

"I know, but I didn't think I needed to worry you," said Jace. "It didn't say anything except that its master was looking for me because I killed someone powerful."

"Beelzebub," Simon said, his eyes widening.

There was a taut silence.

"_What_?" Isabelle said finally. "What the hell you do you mean, you didn't need to worry us? You think whoever sent those demons just wants to have a nice little chat about the fact that you _killed a Prince of Hell_?"

"I'd be open to it if there was tea involved," Jace said.

"It's not _funny_," Isabelle snarled. She turned to Clary. "And you've been keeping this from us, too? What, did he convince you that his whole 'don't worry anyone until I might actually be about to die' thing is reasonable?"

"I only found out this morning," said Clary, rather coolly. "And I'm on your side here, Isabelle."

"What is this, 'gang up on Jace' day?" Jace said under his breath.

"No, it's 'try to stop Jace from getting himself killed for the fiftieth time' day," Isabelle shot back.

"Okay, maybe we should all calm down," said Simon, holding out his hands.

"Since when are you the voice of reason?" Isabelle said irritably.

Simon frowned, but looked back at Jace. "I think you should talk to Magnus," he said. "If anyone might have an idea about what's going on, it'll be him."

"I think that's a good idea," said Clary. Her gaze locked on Jace's, almost challenging him. He sighed, knowing when he was defeated.

"Okay. I'll talk to him tomorrow," he said. "It's getting late and I don't want to bother him right now."

"Fine," said Isabelle. "Text me when you get there, or I'll come back to drag you over there myself, since I know you'll come up with some excuse not to do it." She stood up and swept out of the room.

Simon ran a hand through his hair wearily. "I guess I should get going, too."

"What's going on, Simon?" Clary asked, watching him.

Simon sighed. "We're working on it," he said, but he didn't elaborate, only stood and stretched.

Clary pulled herself to her feet and hugged him. "Call me if you need me, okay?"

"Yeah, I will. You too." He waved at Jace and followed Isabelle out the door. Clary turned to Jace; she, too, looked weary.

"Don't worry," Jace said gently. "Not until we talk to Magnus, okay?"

She lowered herself into Simon's chair, rubbing her belly. "I have a really bad feeling about this," she said.

"I know," Jace said, going over to her and perching on the arm of her chair. "But it doesn't do either of us any good to worry until we know what we're up against. And it's _especially_ not good for this little guy." He put his hand on her belly, feeling the baby move against his palm. "Come on. Let's get some dinner, watch a movie." He stood and reached out a hand to her. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet. He kissed the top of her head and led her out of the room.

* * *

Clary rolled over in bed with some difficulty; it was becoming harder and harder to shift around. The baby wriggled inside her as she settled more comfortably on her side.

The bed was cold beside her; Jace had told her to go up to bed without him, saying he wasn't tired yet. But though Clary was exhausted, she couldn't fall asleep either. Her thoughts felt like they were tangled in knots, looping around and around inside her brain. She closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind.

Slowly, she became aware of music coming from down the hall. She sat up, listening carefully and picking out the sound of a piano. Curious, she pulled on her robe and slid her feet into slippers, padding to the door and opening it.

The music grew louder as she moved toward the end of the hallway. She paused at the door to the music room, listening to the soft melody. It sounded mournful, layered with quiet chords and tapering phrases. Carefully, Clary eased the door open.

Jace was sitting at the piano, his fingers skimming the keys as if brushing gentle kisses across them. Clary stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft _snap._

"Clary?" Jace said without looking up. "Is that you?"

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Clary said again, moving toward the plush armchair beside the piano. She couldn't count how many times she'd sat here, listening to Jace play. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." The song finished with a delicate cascade of notes. Jace let the chord reverberate for a long moment before lifting his foot off the pedal and turning to Clary. "Any requests?"

Clary leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. "Something gentle," she said. "Something happy."

He began a new melody, this one more content. It made Clary think of a sunlit meadow. It was almost a lullaby; Clary sank into the chair, folding her hands over her belly. "I think he likes it," she murmured. "This is the first time he's been calm all day."

"Is that what was keeping you up?" Jace asked.

"No," Clary said, opening her eyes again. "I was worried about what happened today."

Jace stopped playing, looking at her. "I know," he said. "I was thinking about it too. But I really think it's nothing, Clary. Everything will be fine."

"You keep saying that," said Clary, her voice now shaking, "but you can't _know."_ She sat forward in her chair, imploring him. "This feels strange, Jace. Different than anything we've faced before. And I'm scared—" She cut herself off with a gasp as the baby moved swiftly inside her.

"You okay?" Jace asked again, his voice tinged with worry this time.

She gave a breath of laughter. "He's just so _fast_. And strong."

Hesitantly, Jace reached over and put a hand on her belly. She let him.

"Jace," she said softly, and his luminous eyes met hers. "Just try to remember, no matter what happens. Remember what you said. Remember that _this _is what you're fighting for." She touched his cheek gently. "Remember that you have to come home to us."

"I will," he whispered, linking his fingers with hers over her belly as their child kicked within her, alive and real. Something to fight for.

* * *

**A/N: If you liked this chapter, please leave a review! Thanks so much for reading!**

**~4L**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Brace yourselves for a long one! I tried splitting this chapter in two, but it just didn't flow as well, so here we are.**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Oh, _crap_," said Magnus, flopping back into his chair. "I knew it. I _knew_ something like this would happen."

They were in Magnus and Alec's apartment. Alec had taken the kids into the other room to play, leaving Magnus, Jace, and Clary in the living room. Clary drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa, biting her lip as she watched Magnus.

"In my defense," Jace said, "I didn't _mean_ to kill him."

"Intentions don't mean much when it comes to this kind of thing," said Magnus dryly.

"Why are they after him?" Clary asked. "What do they want?"

Magnus sighed. "Deaths always have a certain kind of power. Even when you kill a lesser demon, you're tipping the balance of power one way or the other. There are usually too many other demons for it to make any sort of difference, but killing a Prince of Hell upsets that balance. It's not supposed to be possible." He scrubbed his hands through his hair, sending glitter cascading onto the sofa.

"But he's not really dead, is he?" Jace said. "Won't he reform?"

"Yes, but Clary's rune completely disintegrated him," Magnus said. "It'll take him centuries to reform, and until he does, there's a lot of power up for grabs. My guess is that someone wants to harness that power. And to do that, they need his killer." He indicated Jace.

"What will they do if they get him?" Clary whispered.

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Magnus. "But whatever it is, it won't be good."

A door closed behind them; Clary glanced around as Alec walked toward them. "You guys look like you need coffee," he said.

"I'll help you," Jace said, standing up and stretching. He followed Alec over to the kitchen; Clary could hear them murmuring softly to each other. She blinked hard as she watched Jace's face light up in response to something Alec had said.

"Clary."

She looked back at Magnus; he had a shrewd expression on his face. "I know you're scared," he said gently. "I can't promise everything will be fine, but I'll do my best to help him."

"It should be me," said Clary quietly. "I made that rune. They should be looking for me, not him."

"That's not how it works," Magnus said. "Jace dealt the killing blow. And even if he hadn't, would you really rather they be coming after you?"

Clary stared down at her belly. "Tell me the truth," she said. "Do you think they'll kill him?"

Magnus was silent for a moment. "No," he said finally. "If they wanted to kill him, they would have already. They need him alive."

"For now," Clary said softly.

"Yes," Magnus said. "For now."

Clary wrapped her arms around her stomach. Her vision blurred. "I can't raise this child alone," she whispered. "I can't, Magnus. Not without him."

"With any luck, you won't have to." Magnus reached over, putting a hand on her knee. "Don't lose hope," he said in a low voice. "They haven't won yet."

Jace and Alec came over, each carrying two mugs of coffee. "Clary," said Jace softly, setting his mugs down as he sat beside her.

She shook her head, wiping her tears hastily away. "What can we do?" she asked Magnus. "How do we fix this? How do we stop them?"

"A good first step would be figuring out who this 'master' is that they all mentioned," said Magnus as Alec sat down beside him, handing him a cup of coffee. "I'm willing to bet it's the same demon who was after the Pyxis. Probably a high-up Greater Demon."

"That doesn't narrow it down much," said Jace.

"It's something," Clary said. She drew in a deep breath, knotting her fingers together to keep them from shaking. "It's a place to start."

"So back to researching," Jace sighed. "And here I thought we could finally let all the books in the library start to collect dust."

"You wouldn't be a very good Institute head if you did," Alec pointed out.

"It won't be as much researching as last time," Magnus said. "The most we could do is make a short-list of the possible demons. I don't think we'll know who it is until another demon tries to attack Jace."

"No," said Clary vehemently. They all turned to stare at her. "We're not just going to sit around and hope someone attacks Jace."

"I didn't say that," Magnus said gently. "All I meant was that researching will only get us so far."

"But you're right," Jace said. "The only way we'll know for sure who this demon is, is if we can get someone to talk."

"So we should use you as bait?" Clary said, furious.

"No," said Jace. "But if we can find a demon that's after me and lure it into a trap, maybe we could get some answers."

"That's literally the _definition_ of using you as bait," Clary snapped.

"Clary's right," said Magnus. "It's not worth the risk. We don't know who this demon is or what he wants from you—"

"Which is exactly why we need to find out," Jace said. "We need to know what we're up against."

"We _know_ what we're up against," Clary said. "We know enough to know that we shouldn't just be running straight at them!"

"I agree," said Alec.

"Thank you," said Clary.

"With Jace," Alec finished. Clary stared at him. "But I'm also agreeing with you, Clary," he went on. "We can't just sit around and wait for something to happen. We have to take action."

"That's not what I meant! Magnus—"

She turned to him imploringly; he looked pensive. "It might be worth a shot," he said slowly, "if we're very, _very_ careful."

"Jace," said Clary desperately, looking at him. "Please. Please don't do this."

"There's no other way," Jace said softly. "We have to know, Clary."

Clary looked at each of them in turn; they all met her with similar expressions of resolve. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

"If this is what you want," she said, looking back at Jace, "I can't stop you."

"You know I'll be careful," Jace said, reaching for her, but she pulled away.

"I don't know that," she said quietly. She pushed herself up, putting a hand on her belly to steady herself. The baby shifted inside her. "I'll meet you back home."

"Clary," Jace said, but she passed him without looking at him and left the apartment.

* * *

Clary cried the whole way back to the Institute. Some kindly old lady on the subway handed her a tissue and sat down beside her, patting her shoulder.

"It's the hormones," she said knowledgably.

"I'm not hormonal!" Clary screamed, before being horrified that she'd just yelled at an old lady. The woman didn't seem offended, to her credit. "I'm sorry," Clary said, mopping at her face with the tissue. "You're very kind."

"I'm sure everything will turn out fine, dear," said the lady, before getting off at the next stop.

By the time Clary reached the Institute, it was midday. Jace was sitting on the steps; as she approached, he got to his feet.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "I thought you would Portal back."

"I took the train," Clary said. "I wanted time to think."

"I was worried about you."

"Were you?" said Clary coolly.

"Clary," Jace said. "Don't be mad at me."

She gave a humorless laugh and pushed past him into the Institute. He followed her.

"Look, Magnus, Alec, and I made a plan. I promise you I won't be in any danger. I don't know how else I can try to convince you—"

"So don't," said Clary, continuing down the hallway without looking back at him. He was there in a flash, blocking her way. She stopped short. "Let me pass," she said.

"Clary, can we please talk about this?" he said quietly.

"What's there to talk about?" said Clary. "You've already decided."

He gazed down at her; he was standing so close to her that she could see the witchlight reflected in his pupils. "Yes," he said, "I have. But—"

"So then what's the point in talking about it?" Clary said.

"I don't want you to be mad at me," Jace said softly.

She shook her head. "I'm not mad, Jace. I'm just exhausted." She went to move past him, and he shifted in front of her, almost on instinct, it seemed. "Let me pass," she said again, quietly.

He held her gaze for a measured moment; then, dropping it, he stepped aside.

"Come on," she said. "We have work to do."

* * *

"Clary."

She looked up from the letter she was writing at the desk of the library. Jace, sitting at the table and surrounded by books, was watching her. "You've been quiet."

"I'm working," she said, turning back to the letter.

"Is that all?"

She sighed, scrawled her signature at the bottom of the letter, and folded it up. "The Consul needs this by Wednesday. And we have about fifty other things to do." She jerked her chin at the books. "How's research going?"

"All right." He pulled a piece of paper out from under one of the books. "I'm making a list, but it's like Magnus said. Research will only get us so far."

"Yes, I know," said Clary, with more tension in her voice than she had intended. Jace seemed to notice. He set the paper down and closed his book.

"Clary, I know you're worried," he began, but before he could finish, the phone rang. Clary jumped and automatically scanned the phones on the desk, but they were still and silent. She looked around, spotted her cell phone on the table by the couch, and wilted at the thought of having to get up.

"I'll get it," Jace said, but she had already heaved herself to her feet and crossed the room, picking up the phone. _Tessa Gray_, the screen read.

"Hello?" Clary said, putting the phone to her ear.

"Magnus told us what's going on," said Tessa without preamble. "Are you both all right?"

Clary bit back a sigh. "We're fine, Tessa. Thanks for checking in."

"Of course. And if there's anything Jem and I can do, just let us know."

"Thanks, we'll keep that in mind." She was aware of how stiff and formal she sounded. She exhaled. "How are things on your end?"

"Oh, the same as usual," Tessa said. "You know us, living that nice, quiet life."

"Yes, I envy you sometimes," Clary said bitterly. She could feel Jace's eyes on her; hastily, she changed the subject. "While I've got you, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Tessa said.

"I want to ask Jem, too."

"Oh, okay. Let me go get him. Hold on just a moment." She seemed to have set the phone down; Clary could hear muffled voices on the other end. She moved over to where Jace was. He looked at her inquisitively as she put the call on speakerphone and set the phone down on the table.

A moment later, there was a scuffling noise on the other end. "We're both here," Tessa said.

"Hi, Clary," came Jem's voice.

"Hi," Clary said. "Jace is here, too. We wanted to ask you both something."

"Fire away."

Clary glanced at Jace. He cleared his throat. "We were wondering," he began, "if—if we could name the baby after Will."

There was a long silence on the other end.

"_Oh_," Tessa breathed finally.

"We'd understand if you're not okay with it," Clary said. "We just wanted to ask—"

"Yes," Jem said.

Clary blinked. "Yes?"

"_Yes_," Tessa repeated. "Yes, of course. We would be honored."

"The honor is ours," said Jace. "We know how special he was to you both."

"Thank you," Tessa said. It sounded as if she were speaking through a very tight throat. Clary heard her sniffle. "Thank you both."

"We should let you go," Clary said. "But thank you for calling. And thank you for letting us use his name."

"Of course," said Tessa. "And call me whenever, all right?"

"Okay," Clary said. "Bye. Bye, Jem."

"Bye, Clary. Jace."

Clary hung up, turning to Jace. "Well, I guess he officially has a name," she said.

Jace smiled. "That he does." He reached out to put a hand on her belly, but she turned away, going back over to the desk and setting her phone down. Her feet were aching just from standing for that long; wincing, she kicked off her shoes and stretched her toes.

"Come here," Jace said, beckoning her over to the couch. She wavered before going over to him and sitting beside him; he pulled her legs up into his lap and began to massage her feet. She sighed and sank into the cushions. "Better?" he asked.

"Much." She closed her eyes, stroking her belly lightly as the baby shifted inside her. After a moment, she felt Jace's hand settle on her stomach.

"Don't," she said, opening her eyes and pushing his hand off.

"Why not?" said Jace.

"Because I'm not your property," said Clary shortly. "You can't just touch me whenever you want."

Jace paused. "Okay. Sorry." He went back to rubbing her feet. "Is this okay?"

"It's fine." The sudden surge of anger drained out of her, replaced by that same heavy exhaustion. "I'm sorry. You can touch it if you want. He's your baby, too."

"No, you're right," Jace said. "It's your body."

Clary stared at him. "So do you think when he's out of me, you might actually give a damn about him?"

He froze, his jaw dropping. "What the hell?"

"I'm just asking," said Clary tonelessly. "You think you might care then?"

"When have I ever said I don't care?" Jace said, sounding furious.

"You haven't," Clary said. "But actions speak louder than words."

Jace flung himself to his feet; Clary's legs fell off the couch, and she had to grip the armrest to keep from falling with them. "You think I don't care?" he shouted. "What about when you thought you were having a miscarriage, you think I didn't care then? Or when Beelzebub possessed you and you almost died? You didn't see me then, you don't know how terrified I was—"

"Seems to me like the only time you care is when you think you're about to lose us," Clary said quietly.

Jace opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, a loud beeping sound cut through the room; the Sensor on the wall had lit up, and a blinking red dot had appeared on the map of Manhattan on the wall. Jace looked at Clary; she raised her eyebrows. Setting his jaw, he went over to the Sensor and shut it off, staring at the map.

"That's a Greater Demon," he said. "It's close."

"Well, there you go," Clary said. "There's your opportunity. Go find out who wants to kill you."

He turned back to her; there was something unreadable in his expression. "Go," she said again, without any malice or venom; she was so exhausted that her bones felt as if they were anchored into the floor. "I'll be waiting for you."

He looked at her for a long moment, shifting his weight as if he wanted to run toward her, or perhaps away from her. He opened his mouth. Clary turned away. The moment was broken. He left the room without another word.

Clary closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his receding footsteps. She sank into the couch, waiting for tears to come—but it seemed that her eyes had finally dried up.

* * *

The building looked like it had once been a hotel, though it had seen better days. A sign on the door announced a severe case of asbestos, and the windows had been sloppily boarded up. Part of the top floor was crumbling.

Jace pulled out his Sensor as he approached, pushing a few buttons on it; it began to click softly, in a pulsating rhythm. Jace translated this to mean that the demon was within the building, on the first or second floor, and was probably a big one.

He should have called someone, he knew. Clary would probably say that this only proved her point that he was reckless. He felt a sharp stab of annoyance toward her; he wasn't a child, he could handle one demon by himself. And for her to say he didn't care...didn't she understand that he was trying to protect her? She might be content to sit back and wait, but he wasn't afraid to confront whoever was looking for him, and he wasn't stupid enough to let himself get killed.

At some point, he realized that he had been staring at the building for several minutes, steaming silently. He tried to shake his anger, pulling out his stele and carving Strength, Agility, and Endurance runes into his arm. Then he swapped the stele for a seraph blade, muttering, "_Cassiel."_ The blade burst to life as Jace shouldered his way into the building.

The seraph blade was glowing just enough for Jace to make out the dusty lower floor of the hotel. It had been cleared of any furniture, leaving only a long counter at one end and a few broken chandeliers hanging crookedly at intervals along the vaulted ceiling. The rest of the lobby was empty, a gaping, open space that stretched further than Jace could see in the dark.

He advanced into the room and plunged the seraph blade into the ground. The wooden floor was crumbling and gave way easily, bursting up around the blade. Moving in a wide circle, Jace named another blade _Jahoel_ and drove it into the floor at another cardinal point, repeating this with _Remiel_. The blades glimmered in the darkness, marking out three-quarters of a cross.

The Sensor grew hot against his leg at the same moment that he sensed something watching him from the shadows. Maintaining a casual air, he pulled his stele out and inked a Night-Vision rune into his wrist.

He saw the creature a split second before it lunged. He leapt out of the way, his stele nearly slipping from his hand. Something large and heavy slid toward him in the darkness, scraping against the rotten floorboards. He saw one of the seraph blades flicker as a shadow passed over it. Jace brought the last blade to his mouth and cried, "_Nakir!"_

It flared to life, casting a bright white glow through the room. The demon towered over him, a great serpent-like creature with shimmering black scales and a hooded head like a cobra. It lunged for him again, its hood flattening and its mouth opening to reveal sharp, foot-long fangs. Jace dove past it, planting himself in the middle of the cross he had created. The demon followed, as he had expected, slithering toward him with a low hiss. Jace stood his ground, holding the seraph blade at the ready—and as the snake reared its head, he leaped up into the air. He arced easily over the demon's head, landing behind it and plunging the last seraph blade into the floor. Then, before the demon could attack him again, he carved a single rune into the ground in front of the blade.

A grid of golden lines burst from the floor, shooting up toward the ceiling. The demon gave a loud hiss of pain as the end of its tail, hanging out of the formation, was sliced off by the rising walls of the cage. Jace watched as the walls of the Malachi formation stretched higher and higher, until they were brushing the ceiling of the room.

"My name," said Jace in a clear voice as the demon whipped its head around, flicking its bloody tail at the walls of the cage, "is Jace Herondale. But I'm guessing you knew that already." He tapped one of the seraph blades with his foot; a wave of energy rippled up the cage. "Try to escape, and you'll die instantly. So I suggest you start talking. I want to know who sent you and why."

The demon bared its fangs and made a strange, strangled hissing noise. It took Jace a moment to realize that it was actually speaking in Purgatic. He struggled to translate it, wishing he had paid more attention in his lessons.

The snake was moving; it slithered back in its cage, pressing itself as far back from Jace as it could without touching the walls, almost as if it were bracing itself for something. It was only then that he managed to decipher what it had said.

_They are coming for you_.

The floor rumbled; Jace only had time to draw his sword before the floor began to crumble beneath him. He shouted out, scrambling to regain purchase, but a great pit had opened in the earth, collapsing the floorboards around it. Jace managed to drive his sword into the ground just beyond the edge of the hole, using it to pull himself forward. But something had latched onto his legs and was trying to drag him backward into the pit. He twisted around to look, and his stomach dropped.

Three dozen black, skeletal demons poured from the hole in the earth, using each other as ladders to climb out of the hole. Jace kicked out, and the demon holding his legs released him with a shriek. He heaved with all his might; the floorboards splintered around his sword, but it was enough. He pulled himself out of the hole, scrambling to his feet just as the demons began to swarm around him.

He slashed out with his sword, stumbling back as the earth shook again. The hole in the floor widened, floorboards giving way with dull cracks as they tumbled into the void. Jace drove his sword through one demon, slashed the head off another; they were shorter than him, humanoid in figure, but he was outnumbered. He sliced another demon in half just as something grabbed him from behind, digging its claws into his chest. Blood spurted. He grunted and cracked his head hard against the demon's skull, feeling its hold slacken.

The ground shook again as more of it crumbled away; through the horde of demons, Jace saw the edge of the hole creep ever closer to the Malachi configuration. The seraph blade flickered; then, before his eyes, it tumbled into the pit. The cage seemed to burst apart, the golden grid crumpling to the floor and dissipating into thin air. With a triumphant hiss, the snake reared, diving straight toward him.

* * *

The sharp ringing of a phone cut through Clary's sleep. She opened her eyes groggily, struggling to sit up; night had fallen, and the library was bathed in moonlight. The black phone on the desk was ringing. Clary pushed herself up and went to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Clary." The voice sounded strangely familiar.

"Yes?" she said.

Soft laughter came down the line. "I've missed you."

It felt as if someone had dumped ice water over her head. She could barely breathe.

"We'll finally be together, you and I," his voice said. "Jace is dead."

The phone slipped from her numb fingers, hitting the desk with a loud clatter; it fell and swung by its cord, spinning an inch from the floor. Clary opened her mouth to scream—and a hand clamped down over it, another arm wrapping around her waist.

"My sweet sister," Sebastian whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry it had to be this way."

She struggled against him, but he hugged her tight. "I'm not completely heartless," he said, forcing her head back so it rested on his shoulder. He kissed her forehead, and she flinched. "You can have Jace back. A piece of him, anyway."

Something rolled across the floor, coming to a stop at her feet; Jace's lifeless eyes, silvery in the moonlight, stared up at her from his severed head.

She screamed—and sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open. The rays of the setting sun poured through the windows, blinding her; for a moment, she flailed in panic, before her instincts kicked in and forced her to breathe. She fell back against the cushions, gasping; she could still feel Sebastian's icy grip on her mouth, could feel her forehead burning where he had kissed her. The baby was kicking; it was this, more than anything, that steadied her. She hugged her stomach, forcing cool air into her lungs.

Suddenly, there was a loud _bang_ from the hallway, followed by rapid footsteps. Clary scrambled off the couch, looking around wildly for something she could use as a weapon—but a moment later, the library doors burst open, revealing Alec. Clary relaxed for a second before realizing that he was pale and out of breath.

"Where's Jace?" he said.

Clary stared at him, her stomach turning to ice. "You weren't with him? He said he made a plan with you and Magnus—"

"A plan?" Alec's eyes widened. "You mean he went to trap a demon? By himself?"

Her breath was coming out in short gasps. "I thought you would be with him!" she said.

Alec's eyes were dark with fear, but all he said was, "He's hurt. I need to know where he is."

Clary hurried over to the map on the wall, studying it and trying to remember. "Here," she said, touching a spot. "This is where he saw it. I'm sure."

Alec joined her. "I've been to a shop here," he said, indicating a street corner two blocks from where she had pointed. "I can get close enough. I need weapons, and a Portal—"

"I'm coming with you," Clary said.

Alec looked at her sharply. "Absolutely not. Jace will kill me."

"I don't care," she snapped. "I'm coming." She glared fiercely at him. _Try and stop me,_ she thought.

After a moment, he nodded. "Okay. Gear up. Quickly."

Lightheaded with relief, Clary left the room as quickly as she could, heading down the hallway to the alcove by the door where they kept extra weapons and gear. She pulled on a jacket; it just barely stretched over her belly. Then she slung a belt around her waist and stocked it with a sword, stele, seraph blades, and daggers. Beside her, Alec was doing the same, slinging a bow and quiver across his back for good measure. Her heart was pounding, every beat against her ribs another second Jace was in danger.

They pushed their way through the doors, running down the steps and around the corner. Clary began to draw the runes for a Portal onto the stone side of the church.

"Please be careful," Alec said as the Portal burst to life. "If anything happens to you, Jace will murder me before the demon can."

"I'll be careful," said Clary. Alec touched the Portal, his brow furrowing in concentration. Then he reached out a hand to her, and she stepped through.

* * *

Jace barely managed to dodge the serpent's fangs; they struck the ground an inch from his feet, sending splinters of wood flying into the air. The demons screeched, scrambling out of the way as the snake reared its head again. Using the moment of confusion to his advantage, Jace slashed out at a few of them, clearing a path and forcing his way through. But there were still too many; they converged on him, pressing him back against one of the boarded-up windows. With a sudden spurt of inspiration, Jace reached above his head, gripping one of the boards and prying it off the wall with a screech of nails. Sunlight streamed into the room; half a dozen of the demons screeched as they turned to dust, but the rest of them slipped into the shadows, avoiding the rays of light spilling across the floor. The light just barely missed the snake; it pulled back against the opposite wall, slithering into the shadows.

In the newly-lit room, Jace could see the outlines of more windows lining the walls of the room. He flicked sweat away from his brow and threw himself forward, shoving demons out of his way, hacking them apart as he pushed his way further down the length of the room. He reached another window and wedged his sword behind the boards, levering them off the wall. More demons turned to dust, but there was no time to celebrate. The snake was steadily pushing its way toward him, flicking demons out of the way with its mangled tail. On his other side, the demons packed together, blocking his way to any more windows. Half the room was lit, but the other half remained in shadow, protecting the demons. Jace backed into the light, letting it bathe him in its orange glow—

_Orange_.

His heart skittering, Jace glanced out the broken window; the sun hung low in the sky, brushing the top of a building. As he watched, the rays of light on the floor began to fade, one by one. The demons inched forward—a moment later, the sunlight disappeared.

They rushed forward in a wave, and they were upon him in seconds. He backed away, slashing out without any real strategy or technique; they were pulling at his clothes, his hair, trying to grasp any part of him. He swept his sword across them in an arc, dispatching them as quickly as they came. They surrounded him.

Then, all at once, pain exploded in his side. He went down with a cry as hot blood spilled from his torso, clamped between the snake's jaws. It whipped him away from the horde of demons, flinging him toward the opposite wall. The air rushed out of his lungs as he hit it hard. Stars burst in his vision, almost obscuring it; through the blur, he saw the snake flatten its hood. He struggled to stand up—he'd dropped his sword somewhere, and his seraph blades were gone—the snake lunged—

And jerked suddenly to the side, hissing in pain. Jace blinked at it blearily, catching sight of something protruding from its side. As he watched, another arrow flew at the snake, driving into its neck. It collapsed to the floor, and a blur of red and black rushed at it with a scream. Metal flashed; ichor erupted from the demon's throat, its head severed from its body. It crumpled.

Jace forced himself to sit up; the effort made his head spin. Struggling to focus, he saw two figures running toward him. Alec—and Clary.

Even in his disorientation, fear bubbled in his stomach. "Clary—go—" he managed.

"Shut up," she snapped. Behind her, Jace could see the army of demons pressing forward, the snake no longer in their way. Clary glanced over her shoulder at Alec; he nodded and moved to stand in front of them, nocking another arrow in his bow. Deftly and methodically, he began to shoot down the demons as they rushed forward.

Clary dropped to her knees beside Jace and ripped open his gear jacket, then the shirt beneath it. Blood gushed from two wounds the size of quarters, one between his left ribs and the other to the left of his navel. Jagged purple lines branched away from the edges of the wounds, already halfway across his torso. "It missed your heart," Clary said, "but it must have been venomous. I can't heal you, or I'll seal the venom in."

"Clary," Jace said weakly. He was beginning to lose feeling in his toes.

"I told you to shut up," she said. She pulled out her stele; Jace could see her hands shaking. "Think, come on, think..." she whispered.

"Clary!" Alec said. She looked up, and Jace followed her gaze. There were still a couple dozen demons left, advancing; Alec had run out of arrows. He tossed his bow aside and pulled out his sword. "Get him out of here!" Alec shouted, running forward to meet the demons.

Clary squeezed her eyes shut. "Think, think..." she muttered. Her eyes flew open, and she half-fell on Jace in her haste to scrawl a rune across his torso, one he didn't recognize. It glowed a pure, shimmering white; Jace watched as the purple lines receded, snaking back into the wounds. His blood seemed to turn black, venom dribbling down the side of his body. With trembling fingers, Clary inked _iratzes_ next to each wound, and they began to close up. Clary bent over him again, tracing out the beginning of a blood-replenishment rune—but suddenly, Alec cried out. Looking past Clary, Jace saw Alec stumble back at the same moment he felt pain lance through his _parabatai _rune.

Clary had gone pale; she pressed the stele into Jace's hands. "Stay here and give yourself _amissios_ and _iratzes_," she said, speaking quickly. "When you're strong enough, get out of the building. We'll come and find you."

"Don't go," Jace gasped out, but she had already pushed herself to her feet and run toward the battle, her red hair streaming out behind her. He watched her draw her sword in an arc of flashing steel.

_Get up,_ said a sharp voice in his head, clearing his mind. He tightened his grip on Clary's stele and, bending his wrist awkwardly, managed to finish the rune she had started. He felt his heart begin to beat a little more strongly, pushing the new blood through his veins. At the other end of the room, Alec and Clary had managed to beat the demons back; sword clattered against bone as they dispatched the last few. The room fell silent.

Through the shadows, Jace saw Clary sag against the wall, her chest heaving. Alec sheathed his sword and went to her; he could hear them murmuring to each other. After a moment, Clary straightened, stowing her own sword away. They split apart, Clary walking to the other side of the room and Alec coming toward Jace.

With a great effort, Jace pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall. In a flash, Alec was there, dragging Jace's arm over his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded. "We had a plan! You were supposed to call us!"

"I thought I could handle it," Jace mumbled. He swayed on his feet, pressing into Alec.

"Of course you did," Alec said bitterly. "Clary was right. We should have left it alone if this was how you were going to 'handle it'."

"She shouldn't be here," Jace said.

"Neither should you," said Alec sharply.

Jace grunted as Alec pulled him up a little straighter, causing a dull pain to shoot across the left side of his body. "You shouldn't have brought her," he said. "She could have gotten hurt."

"She didn't exactly give me a choice," Alec said irritably. "And if you don't want her to get hurt, maybe you shouldn't put yourself in situations where she feels like she has to come save you."

Before Jace could respond, Clary called from across the room, "Alec, can you come take a look at this?"

Shooting Jace a dark look, Alec wrapped his arm around Jace's waist and began to help him across the room. "I'm fine, I can walk," Jace said. Alec surveyed him for a moment before letting him go; Jace swayed slightly, but began to put one foot in front of the other. They made their way over to Clary.

She was kneeling at the edge of the pit, staring into the abyss. Jace felt a wave of vertigo as he looked down into the hole that seemed to reach all the way to the center of the earth.

Clary pointed toward the bottom of the pit. "Do you see that?"

Jace squinted. "No."

Clary glanced at him. "I was talking to Alec. And you should move back, if you faint you'll fall right in."

Jace set his jaw, but retreated slightly from the edge of the pit. Alec knelt beside Clary. "It looks like something's glowing down there," he said.

"It was brighter a minute ago," said Clary. "It reminds me of a Portal." She turned to look at Jace. "Was this here when you got here?" Jace explained how the floor had opened up, giving way to the demons. Her brow furrowed. "Demons just...crawled out of this hole?" She turned to Alec, who was examining the edge of the pit. "Do you think they were hiding underground or something?"

He shook his head. "A Sensor would have caught them. Whatever happened here, it's nothing I've heard of before."

"Will you ask Magnus?" Clary said.

"Yeah," said Alec. He straightened up. "I should get back to him, actually. I had to rush out in the middle of dinner, the boys will be worried." Jace felt a small stab of guilt.

"They shouldn't be," said Clary. Her back was to Jace, but he could hear the hardness in her voice. "They know you'll always come back to them."

Jace opened his mouth, but something in Alec's expression stopped him from speaking. He didn't look uncomfortable, as Jace might have expected from such a pointed statement; instead, pity was written all over his face.

Clary shifted; both Alec and Jace moved to help her up, but she got to her feet by herself, turning toward Jace. He had expected her to glower at him, but what he saw was much worse: she was crying. The guilt grew heavier in his stomach.

Alec took an uncertain step toward her, but she shook her head. "You should get back to your family," she said softly. She reached out and squeezed his hand before heading back toward the door.

"I think you owe her an apology," said Alec quietly.

Jace leaned back against the wall. "I know."

"And the next time you're about to do something incredibly idiotic," Alec said, "maybe call me first. Although I think we'd all prefer it if you just didn't do idiotic things. But given that Isabelle once called you 'Jace King-of-the-Idiots Herondale,' I'm pretty sure we've all come to expect it of you by now."

"Did she really call me that?" said Jace, curious.

"She will after I tell her about this," Alec said. Jace grimaced. "Now go talk to your wife."

They went over to her together. Alec gave Clary a quick squeeze on the shoulder and Jace a sharp look before heading out the door.

"Clary," Jace said. She didn't look at him. She was trying to unzip her gear jacket, which had gotten stuck right above her belly. After a moment of watching her struggle, Jace took pity on her and went to help. Together, they managed to get it unzipped. Clary pulled it off and drew in a long, deep breath.

"Thanks," she said. "Do you have my stele?" Jace handed it to her, and she began to _iratze_ the small ichor burns on her arms.

"Clary, can we talk?" said Jace quietly.

"I don't know what there is to talk about, Jace," she said. Her eyes were shimmering, and she finished off the _iratze_ a little more lopsidedly than normal. "No matter what I say, you don't seem to want to listen to me."

"I'm sorry, okay?" said Jace. "I really am. This was stupid, and reckless, and it won't happen again. I swear."

Clary gave a hollow laugh. "Except it will. You just can't stop yourself, can you?"

"Look, I underestimated how bad it would be," Jace said. "Next time I'll bring people with me, and I'll be more careful, I promise."

Clary closed her eyes. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. "I am so _sick_ of your empty promises," she whispered.

"It's not an empty promise," Jace said. "I was in over my head this time, but next time—"

"I don't want there to be a next time!" Clary exploded. "Do you really think this is about you not being able to handle a battle? It's about the fact that every time you walk out the door, _I don't know if you're going to come back!_ It's about the fact that I still have nightmares about you being killed, it's about me having to invent a brand new rune on the spot to save your life, it's about me being terrified out of my mind that I'm going to have to raise this baby alone and I'm going to have to explain to him why his dad decided fighting demons was more important to him than his own son!"

Jace stared at her, his mouth half-open. She was breathing raggedly, tears pouring down her face.

"I—" His voice stuck in his throat. He tried to clear it. "I just wanted to protect you."

"But we would have been fine, Jace," said Clary, and he had never heard her sound so helpless. "We were safe in the Institute. _You _were safe. You didn't have to deal with this, you could have let other Shadowhunters do it, or you could have followed the plan with Magnus and Alec. So why didn't you?"

"Because..." He felt at a rare loss for words. "Because I thought I could handle it."

"But why did it have to be you that handled it?" said Clary softly.

"Because—they're after me," Jace said, the words tumbling out of him. "I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me. And after you...when Beelzebub..."

"God," Clary whispered. "This again." She passed a hand over her eyes. "So was that an empty promise too? When you said you'd stop blaming yourself for everything?"

"I'm _trying_, Clary," said Jace, digging his nails into his palms. "But after everything you went through to protect me from Beelzebub, just for someone else to start attacking me...I just want it to be over. I want to find them and kill them and put it all behind us."

Clary was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Do you know why dealing with Beelzebub was so hard for me? It's because he was attacking my mind. He turned my worst fears into my reality, and he made it impossible to escape. _That's_ what you're doing to me, Jace. The minute you put on your gear, my brain goes into overdrive coming up with a thousand scenarios for how this next battle will go, and nine hundred and ninety-nine of them end with you dying. But then you come back to me, and I trick myself into thinking you're safe, only for you to leave again. It's _exhausting_, Jace."

"But I come back to you," said Jace. "Every time, I come back to you."

"You almost didn't," Clary whispered. "You would have died today if we hadn't shown up."

"I..."

It dawned on him that she was right. Even if the snake hadn't killed him, the venom had spread through his body so quickly; if Clary had gotten there even a few minutes later, he would have already been dead. He stared at Clary. He had known, from the moment he met her, that he would die for her—but if he had died today, it wouldn't have been for her. It would have been for his own arrogance, his own pride. And his arrogance and pride had put her in danger too.

"You're right," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her face softened. They reached out to each other at the same moment; he gripped her tightly against him. "I'm sorry I caused you so much pain."

He felt her stroke his back lightly. "I know."

After a long moment, they broke apart. He brushed her hair away from her face; it clung to her wet cheeks. "I don't know how to protect people if I'm not fighting," he whispered. "I don't know what it means."

"Just stay with me," she said, rubbing her thumb across his cheek. "As long as you're safe, I'm safe." She put a hand on her stomach. "We're safe. All of us." He laced his fingers with hers. "We're a team, Jace," she said. "We have to work together, like we worked together to kill Beelzebub. We're going to figure this out too, and no one is going to get hurt. Okay?"

He exhaled; it felt as if something inside him were loosening, as if it had been knotted all this time and he had never even known.

"Okay," he said.

And they walked hand in hand into the night.

* * *

**A/N: If you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! As always, thanks for reading.**

**~4L**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

"If I have to read one more demon report, I'm going to gouge out my own eyes," Jace announced, dumping a sheaf of papers onto the coffee table and sinking back into the sofa.

"I hate to break it to you, but it's kind of our job," said Clary with amusement, looking up from the book she was reading.

The moon was full and high in the sky. It was a remarkably clear night; it had been snowing earlier, and from the library Clary could see the street shining in the moonlight, reflecting headlights and taillights. She leaned back against the cushions, wincing slightly as the baby gave her a good hard kick.

"Everything okay?" said Jace, glancing at her.

"Yeah." She rubbed her belly ruefully.

"Is he bothering you?" Jace leaned in close to her belly. "Hey, you, pipe down in there. It's past your bedtime."

Clary laughed. "There's no point. I swear he's nocturnal."

Jace gave a mischievous grin. "I know how to put him to sleep." He grabbed one of the demon reports and began to read it out loud in a monotone voice. "'Demon report number forty-six for January of 2018. Three drevak demons were found in a cemetery, devouring a rotting corpse'—"

He broke off as Clary smacked his shoulder. "Don't read him that!"

"Well, is it working?" Jace asked.

The baby punched Clary's ribs.

"No," she said, grimacing.

Jace sighed, tossing the report back onto its pile. "That's one stubborn kid."

"Gee, I wonder where he gets it," said Clary sarcastically. Jace's lip quirked up.

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean," he said. Clary rolled her eyes and went back to poring over her book. "Are you reading an atlas for fun?" Jace asked, looking over her shoulder.

"No," said Clary. "I was thinking about that pit in the hotel. How the demons could have hidden from the Sensor." Alec had asked Magnus about it as soon as he'd gotten back, but Magnus was as stumped as they were. "Do you remember when Sebastian attacked the Adamant Citadel? How he hid half his forces from us?"

"He hid them in the Seelie Court," Jace said. "But they can't be involved in this. There's no way they'd have access to that many demons."

"But the Seelie Queen could only get them to the Citadel because it was built on ley lines," Clary said. "And I keep thinking about that light I saw at the bottom of the hole..." She traced her finger down a golden line on the map of the east coast of North America. "This ley line cuts through Manhattan," she said. "What if the hotel was built on it, and someone opened a Portal to another dimension? A demon dimension?"

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Is that possible?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Clary closed the book and set it on the coffee table. "I'd have to ask Magnus."

"That would explain how so many of them got through, if they were coming straight from a demon dimension," Jace said. "I think you've cracked it, Clary."

She smiled. "Let's just wait and see what Magnus says before we start celebrating." She stretched, lifting her arms above her head. Her shirt rode up, exposing her belly. Jace reached over and poked it.

"Hey," Clary said, jabbing a finger at him. "No poking the baby, remember?" Jace laughed. As Clary went to pull her shirt down, she paused, staring down at her belly. "Look, I have a stretch mark," she said, running her finger along her stomach.

It was a thin white mark, the size of her index finger, winding its way up across her skin like a river carving through stone. Jace leaned forward to look at it.

"I like it," he said unexpectedly.

She raised her eyebrows. "You do?"

"Yeah," he said, reaching out to touch it. "It's like..." He moved his fingers up her bare arms, tracing the white scars of countless used-up Marks. "Every one of these tells a story. Some battle, some victory, some challenge you overcame. This—" He touched the stretch mark again— "is just another scar. Except it's so much more special, because it's a reminder that you're growing a life in here. You're doing something incredible."

Clary looked at him, smiling slightly. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"

"I'm gifted that way," said Jace, grinning as he leaned in to kiss her. She lingered against his lips for a moment before pulling away. She sighed, propping her hand on her head and gazing at him. "What's up?" he said.

She gave a soft smile. "I just love these little moments. We won't get many of them once the baby comes."

"We'll get new ones," said Jace. "Better ones." He pulled her against him, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, snuggling into him. She exhaled, relaxing.

There was a loud crash in the hallway. She sat up straight; Jace had gone very still. He stood, pulling her up with him. The library doors were open, and Clary could hear muffled scuffling and grunting. Glancing at Jace, she went to the door and edged into the hallway.

Something was moving by the entrance doors; as Jace and Clary approached, Clary began to relax as she noticed the tangle of coats on the floor and the two high-heeled feet kicking helplessly from beneath the coatrack.

"Izzy?" she said.

Isabelle managed to extricate herself from the mess and flopped onto her back, gazing up at Jace and Clary. "Hello," she said.

"Are you drunk?" Clary asked.

Isabelle staggered to her feet. "No," she said defiantly. "Well, yes," she admitted. "Well—I meant to get drunk, but we ran out of alcohol. So I came here." She glanced down at the upended coatrack and stooped to correct it. It clanged loudly against the stone wall as she heaved it upright. "Speaking of which, do you have any alcohol?" she said, attempting to kick the mess of coats beneath a bench.

"Um," Jace said. "That doesn't seem like a good idea—"

He broke off as Isabelle gave him a murderous glare. Clary patted his arm. "I'll take care of this," she said. "You go up to bed, I'll be there soon."

He nodded and dropped a kiss on the top of her head before traipsing back the way they came.

"Come on," said Clary, reaching out a hand to Isabelle. "I'm sure we have something in the kitchen."

"Great," said Isabelle, making to follow her. "Wait, nope, I have to pee." She spun around, squinting down the hallway.

"That way," said Clary, pointing over her shoulder.

"I knew that!" Isabelle said defensively. "I lived here before you, remember?"

Clary sighed. "Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, okay?"

Isabelle nodded and headed down the hallway. Clary waited until she had disappeared into the bathroom before going to the kitchen. She opened the liquor cabinet and pulled out a nearly empty bottle of "Ready-to-Drink Margarita Mix!". Quickly, she dumped the remainder into the sink, pulled a jug of lemonade out of the fridge, and filled up the margarita bottle. She stuck the lemonade back into the fridge just as Isabelle stumbled into the kitchen, plopping herself heavily into a chair.

"Is it rude to ask a pregnant woman for alcohol?" she said musingly.

"Not at all," said Clary. "Especially when the pregnant woman in question is your sister-in-law." She slid the bottle across the table. "There are some caveats, however, including the fact that we don't actually _have_ a lot of alcohol. All I could find was premade margarita mix."

Isabelle frowned. "You seriously don't have _anything_ else?"

"It's not like we've been doing a lot of drinking lately," Clary pointed out.

"_Jace_ isn't pregnant," said Izzy grumpily.

"Jace is abstaining out of solidarity," said Clary loftily, pouring herself a glass of water. "Or at least, he's abstaining because I told him if he drinks, I'll make him sleep on the couch for a month."

Isabelle unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a swig. "This just tastes like lemonade," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Weird," said Clary, sitting opposite her. "So," she said, raising her own glass, "what are we drinking to?"

"Husbands," Isabelle said gloomily. "Or rather, the impending lack thereof."

"What?" Clary said, astonished. "You and Simon aren't—"

"No." Isabelle sighed. "But it's only a matter of time, isn't it?"

"How do you figure?"

Isabelle was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, she said, "Simon wants a baby."

"He—what?" said Clary, completely nonplussed.

"Wants a baby," Isabelle repeated dully, tipping the bottle back again.

"So...wait, you came over here because—" Clary broke off, her eyes widening. "Oh my God, Izzy, you're not—"

"I'm _not_," said Isabelle irritably. "Why do people keep asking me that? And anyway, if I was, I wouldn't be stupid enough to drink..." She appeared to do some difficult math in her head. "_Two_ bottles of alcohol. Three? No, two." She squinted at the bottle in front of her. "Two and a quarter."

"Okay, maybe you should go easy on that," Clary said, reaching over to take the bottle away. Isabelle made a hissing noise like a cat, hugging the bottle to her chest. "Or not," Clary muttered, sitting back.

Isabelle took a long chug from the bottle and slammed it down on the table. "He's just being such a _dick_ about it," she said angrily.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about this?" Clary said.

Isabelle sighed. "Well, it started while we were in Morocco looking for a way to stop Beelzebub..."

* * *

"This isn't it," said Simon, slamming another book closed. He threw it onto the growing pile beside him. "How are we ever supposed to find that stupid spellbook in this place?"

Isabelle couldn't fault him for being frustrated. The Morocco Institute's library was smaller than the New York one, but every bookshelf was so tightly packed with books that Isabelle had at one point accidentally dislodged three at once trying to tug one out. They had been searching for the spellbook for over a week now, skimming dusty tome after dusty tome, and had come up with nothing.

She sighed as she wedged a book back into its place. "I know it's here somewhere. It's just going to take a little time."

"We don't have time," said Simon. "_Clary_ doesn't have time."

Isabelle went over to him, sitting on the arm of the couch. "I know," she said. "But all we can do is keep looking." She touched his cheek lightly. "Do you want to take a break? You've been working hard all morning."

"No," said Simon, standing up. "We should keep working."

He went to walk away, but Isabelle took his hand, pulling him back. "Simon," she said softly. "Take a break."

She tilted her head up and he brought his down, their lips meeting. He leaned into her, pressing her into the couch. Their kisses grew more fevered; Isabelle toppled backward, pulling Simon down with her. He ran his fingers through her hair, unravelling her braid.

"Izzy," he murmured. "Izzy, let's have a baby."

She pulled away with a loud squelching noise. He blinked at her, looking somewhat disoriented after the delirium of their kiss. "_What?_" she squeaked.

"What?" he said blankly.

She pushed him off her, scrambling to her feet. "What did you say?"

"Let's have a baby, Iz," he said, reaching out to her. She backed away, colliding with the coffee table. "What's the matter?"

"You—you—" Isabelle spluttered. "You can't just spring something like that on me!"

"Did I?" He looked genuinely confused. "I thought we talked about having kids."

"Yeah," said Isabelle emphatically, "in the _future_. We can't—we're not—we've only been married three years!"

"Clary and Jace have been married for less, and they're having a baby," Simon pointed out.

"Clary and Jace didn't _plan_ it," Isabelle said. "And with everything that's going on right now, this is the absolute worst time to have a baby!"

"Okay, so when this is all over," Simon said. "When it's safe. How about then?"

"I don't—where is this even coming from?" Isabelle demanded.

"I don't know." Simon scratched his head. "I guess I've been thinking about it for a while. I mean, Magnus and Alec seem really happy with Max and Rafe, and I think Clary was excited to be pregnant, you know, for the two seconds before everything went to hell—"

"That's a lot of 'seem's and 'think's," Isabelle said.

Simon crossed his arms. "Is what I'm asking for really that crazy?"

"Kind of!" said Isabelle. "Look, can we just—I don't know—put a pin in this? We should get back to work."

"I thought we were taking a break," said Simon. "What's up with you, Izzy? I thought you wanted this."

"I do, I just—" Isabelle struggled to find the words. "Just not yet," she said. "I don't think we're ready."

"Ready for what? To be parents?" He got up and slid his arms around her waist. "We'll be great parents, Izzy."

"Simon," she said, gently putting his arms back by his side, "_I'm_ not ready."

"Why not?" he asked. "You're great with Max and Rafe."

"Yeah, I talk to them, and I play with them, and then I hand them right back to Alec and Magnus," Isabelle said. "It's different than having our own kid."

"Of course it is," Simon said. "Because having our own baby would be so much more special, Izzy."

"I know, but—"

"So then what's the hang-up?" Simon said, his voice hard.

"I don't want to get pregnant right now!" Isabelle said.

"Why not?"

"Because I _don't_," said Isabelle, starting to grow angry. "I'm not ready for it. That should be a good enough answer for you."

"Well, it's not," Simon said heatedly. "We've been talking about kids for years, and now suddenly you don't want them? Because of what, vanity?"

Isabelle gaped at him. "_Vanity_?"

Simon grimaced. "No, I didn't mean that," he said, running his fingers roughly through his hair. "I just meant—wouldn't it all be worth it in the end?"

"Have you even looked at Clary lately?" Isabelle demanded. "She's absolutely miserable. And sure, it might be worth it for her, but the fact is that I'm not ready to put myself through all that. And if that makes me selfish and vain, fine."

"You're not selfish and vain," Simon said quietly. He seemed to have lost all the fight in him; he sat back down on the couch, looking thoroughly defeated.

Isabelle closed her eyes, the fire in her dying too. She sat beside him. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I wish I was ready, but I'm just not."

"It's okay," Simon said resignedly. "But...do you think you'll change your mind?"

Isabelle hesitated. "Yeah. I think so."

"Okay." He kissed her cheek. "I'll wait."

* * *

The bottle was half empty; Isabelle passed it between her hands as she talked.

"And I thought that would be it," she said dully. "But then he brought it up again, and again, and now it's all we ever talk about. The tiniest little thing turns into a fight, and it all boils down to the fact that he wants a baby and I don't." She took a drink. "And I keep feeling like he's being so damn pushy, but maybe I'm just being a bitch. Maybe I'm selfish."

"You're not selfish," said Clary gently.

"Yeah, you're right," Isabelle said. "If I was selfish, I wouldn't be feeling this bad about it." She gave a bitter laugh. "Maybe I'm broken. We're supposed to want to have kids early, you know, in case we die out in the field. My mom had Alec when she was twenty-one. I didn't even get married until I was twenty-two."

"You know, in the mundane world that's still considered pretty early," Clary said.

Isabelle shrugged, taking another swig. "Every time she comes over, I know she wants to ask when I'm going to pop one out, and I know she and Simon are going to gang up on me about it...but the more he pushes, the less I want to do it. Now I feel like I'm just being stubborn."

"You're not," said Clary sharply. "Isabelle, you have every right to say no."

She looked surprised. "I thought you'd side with Simon," she said. "Since he's your _parabatai_. And you're, you know—" She mimed a ballooning stomach.

Clary laughed. "It's _because_ I'm pregnant that I'm siding with you."

"Seriously?" She looked baffled. "Aren't you supposed to be over the moon or something? Excited for your soon-to-be bundle of joy?"

"Well, I am," Clary said. "But these past six months haven't exactly been fun. And it's only going to get harder from here."

"Then why does anyone do it?" Isabelle huffed, resting her chin on the table. "It sounds like it sucks."

Clary gave a wan smile. "I wish I could tell you. All I know is I want this baby, and that makes it worth it. But if you don't want to do it—"

"It's not that I don't," Isabelle sighed. "I mean, I want a baby. I've always wanted one. But when I think about having a baby right now, I just get all nervous." She blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Maybe we should just do it. I mean...I could be a mom, right?"

Clary looked at her for a long moment. Then she stood and moved around the table. "Give me your hand," she said.

Isabelle raised her eyebrows, but offered her hand. Clary took it and placed it on her belly, feeling the baby kick. Isabelle's lips parted slightly.

"This isn't some hypothetical, Izzy," she said softly. "This is what a baby is, a real human being. You're responsible for its happiness for at least eighteen years, if not the rest of your life. You have to be there through all the hard stuff, and you can't walk away. Being a mother means giving up parts of your life and giving everything you have to your children."

"How do you know?" said Isabelle sullenly. "You're not a mom yet. Not really."

Clary smiled wryly. "You think I haven't wanted to be at the bottom of a bottle these last few months? First with Beelzebub, now everything that's happening with demons coming after Jace? I'd be splitting that bottle with you if I wasn't pregnant, but my baby has to come first. And I've had to stay back from missions so many times when all I've wanted was to be there to protect Jace, but even when I went with Alec, all I could think about was trying to keep the baby safe. Because right now, I'm the only one responsible for his safety. It's terrifying sometimes." She reached out and stroked Isabelle's hair. "Being a mom isn't for everyone," she said. "And that's okay. But if you're going to do it, you have to be sure."

"I think I could be," Isabelle mumbled. "Just not yet."

"That's okay, too. Take your time. You'll know when you're ready." Clary sat back down as Isabelle took another drink. "And Izzy," she said, reaching out to take Isabelle's hand, "Simon may be my _parabatai_, but you're my sister. I'm always on your side."

Isabelle blinked hard. "Damn it. Why'd you have to say that? You know I cry easily when I'm drunk." Clary smiled and patted Isabelle's hand as she wiped at her eyes. "Are you sure you don't have any more alcohol?" she said. "I feel like this stuff is making me more sober."

Clary was saved from replying by approaching footsteps. Simon appeared in the doorway.

"I knew you'd be here," he said, folding his arms.

"Good for you," Isabelle said, staring at the bottom of the bottle. "Do you want a medal or something?"

Simon came further into the kitchen. "You're still drinking?"

"Yeah," Isabelle shot back. "What about it?"

"I think you've had enough," said Simon. He reached out to take the bottle away from her, but she stood up, jabbing a finger at him.

"Listen, you—" Her eyelids fluttered shut and she toppled into his arms. He staggered back with the sudden weight of her.

"Is she okay?" Clary asked worriedly.

A loud snore rumbled through the kitchen. Simon sighed. "I think she's fine," he said, hoisting her into his arms. He jerked his chin at the bottle on the table. "You gave her more alcohol?"

"It's lemonade," Clary assured him. "Don't worry, I'm not stupid."

He shook his head, smiling. "I know you're not. That's pretty smart, actually."

"No need to sound so surprised," said Clary, grinning at him. "Considering she said she drank two bottles at your place—"

"Nah, not really," said Simon. "I watered everything down ages ago." He glanced down at Isabelle, who was drooling on his shirt. "She still got pretty drunk, though."

"Come on," Clary said. "You can both crash here tonight."

She led him upstairs to Isabelle's old room, where he deposited her into the bed. She mumbled something and rolled onto her side, snoring with her mouth open.

"She's going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow," Simon said, pulling a lock of hair out of Isabelle's mouth.

"She's survived worse," Clary said. "Remember my twenty-first birthday party?"

Simon shuddered. "Worst day of my life," he said. He gave a humorless laugh. "Though I guess this comes pretty close." He glanced at Clary sideways. "How much did she tell you?"

"Pretty much all of it," Clary said. Simon sighed, seeming to deflate. Clary took his arm. "Come on," she said. "Let's talk."

She took him down the hall to a spare bedroom and closed the door behind them. He sat heavily on the bed. "What's going on with you, Simon?" she said softly, sitting beside him.

"I don't know." He rested his chin on his hand. "I guess I'm just frustrated. I didn't think it would be like this. I always thought we were on the same page."

"I think you still can be," Clary said. "She just needs a little time to catch up to you."

"But we've talked about it before," said Simon. "Having kids. And she always seemed so excited. And then all of a sudden, it was like she just changed her mind, and—" He ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't get why," he said, sounding aggravated.

"No," said Clary gently, "you really don't." She put a hand on her stomach. "This is a lot to ask someone to go through, Simon. It's not easy, it's not painless, and it's not fun. And sure, it can be beautiful and magical, but it's also really difficult. And if she's not ready for all this, then you need to respect that. Because she's the one who's going to have to bear the weight for nine months. Not you."

"I know." Simon exhaled. "And I know she keeps saying she's not ready but—but maybe you never are. I mean, you weren't, right?"

"No," Clary admitted.

"So maybe we just have to go for it." He turned to her, looking desperate. "Right?

"Simon," Clary sighed. "I can't answer that. Only Isabelle can."

They sat in silence for a moment, Simon's shoulders slumping. At last, he said, "Why didn't you have the abortion? If you really weren't ready? I mean, with everything you were going through...it seemed like an easy way out of it."

She chewed her lip. "Well...I thought about it. Some days, when it was really hard, I really considered doing it. But the fact is, as soon as I knew I was pregnant, I knew I wanted the baby. And if I'd had the abortion, it wouldn't have been because I wanted to. It would have been because Beelzebub was forcing me to make that decision. And that was the one thing I wouldn't let him have power over, not when he was already in control of my mind and my dreams and..." She broke off, winding her fingers together. "I just knew I wanted the baby."

"But that's the thing," said Simon, "maybe once she got pregnant, she'd be ready. She'd want it."

"Simon," Clary said gently, "I chose to have the baby even though I knew what it would cost, but that's not a choice anyone should have to make. And I think it would have been easier if we had planned it, because then it would have been cut and dry, you know? I would have been certain. But we didn't plan him, and I wasn't ready, and that made it so, so much harder." She reached out, rubbing his shoulder. "I know how much you want this. And I really think she does, too. You just have to give her time. And you _have_ to stop trying to force her into it."

He dropped his head into his hands. "God, I must look like a total asshole."

"Well, yeah, kind of," Clary said.

"It's not like I want to pressure her," Simon said. "I just...I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted it. But you're right. I've been a real jerk to her."

"I think you owe her an apology," Clary said. "A really, really big one."

His lip quirked at the corner. "Any ideas?"

"I'm sure she'll have plenty," said Clary, smiling. "Come on, it's late. We should both get to bed."

He stood first and helped her up. She walked him back to Isabelle's room, pausing at the door. "Simon?" He looked at her. "You'll be a great dad," she said. "Whenever it happens."

He smiled. "Thanks." He kissed the top of her head before entering the room. Clary exhaled and walked down the hall to her own bedroom.

Jace opened his eyes as Clary slid into bed. "Hey," he said. "Everything okay with Izzy?"

"I think it will be," Clary said. "I might have singlehandedly saved a marriage tonight."

Jace grinned. "You would." He pulled her in against him, or as much as he could with her belly between them. "All in a day's work for the smartest Shadowhunter of our time."

Clary laughed, kissing his nose. "Go to sleep, you dork."

* * *

**A/N: I know a lot of you have been waiting for this chapter, so I hope it was a satisfying answer to your questions! If you've enjoyed it, please leave a review. Thanks so much for reading!**

**~4L**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

"I see you two have made up," said Clary, walking into the kitchen the next morning to the sight of Isabelle and Simon at the table, her head on his shoulder and their hands entwined.

"All thanks to you," said Simon. Clary smiled with satisfaction and went over to the counter to start a pot of coffee.

"Oh, God, can I get a cup of that?" Isabelle said, lifting her head up. "I think last night was the drunkest I've ever been."

"Twenty-first birthday party," said Clary and Simon together. Isabelle grimaced.

"Thanks for the reminder," she said.

Jace entered the kitchen. "Oh, good," he said, catching sight of Isabelle and Simon. "Does this mean you'll finally stop being so grumpy all the time?" Isabelle scowled at him. "So that's a no," Jace said. He came over to Clary and kissed her cheek just as the coffee brewer beeped. She turned away to grab some mugs.

"What, the coffee's more important to you than me?" said Jace, pouting.

Clary laughed. "You knew that when you married me. Nothing gets between me and my coffee." She poured two cups, added cream and sugar to one, and slid it in front of Isabelle, who snatched it up gratefully and began to guzzle it down. Clary turned back to find that Jace was already adding sugar to her own cup. He handed it to her with a grin.

"I figure if coffee has to be the third person in this relationship, I might as well embrace it," he said, handing her the mug. She shook her head at him, smiling as she took a sip.

"Hello?" said Simon. "Don't I get a cup?"

"Get it yourself, I'm not your servant," Jace said. Simon frowned, but Clary poured him a mug and passed it to him.

"I should call Magnus," she said. "Can you get started on breakfast?"

"Will do." Jace leaned down to kiss her, and she pressed herself closer to him; it was getting more and more difficult with her growing belly in the way. She felt the baby squirm inside her and wondered if he was being squished. Jace glanced down. "Does he ever stop moving?" he asked.

Clary laughed. "No. Not a bit. He's as restless as his dad." Jace smiled and ran his hand across her belly before giving her one last kiss and moving away toward the fridge. Clary pulled out her phone and pressed Magnus's contact. It rang a few times before he picked up.

"Hi, biscuit. What's up?"

"Hey," she said. "Is this a good time?"

"Sure. Magnus the Magnificent, at your service." Clary rolled her eyes, but began to explain her theory about the hotel. "Hmm," he said, once she had finished. "It's possible. A powerful enough demon could potentially use a ley line to create a Portal between our dimension and theirs. Though I think the most they would be able to do with it is send a lot of lesser demons through, like they did at the hotel."

"So we should probably keep an eye on any ley line sites, right?" said Clary.

"Especially the junctions," said Magnus. "I know there's one in Central Park, but I don't think there are any other ones in Manhattan. I'll check my files and get back to you." In the distance, Clary thought she could make out Alec's voice. "Oh, hang on, Alec wants to talk to you."

There was a shuffling noise. "Hey, Clary, just wanted to check in. Are you doing okay?"

Clary smiled. He'd been "checking in" with her more often since the fight at the hotel. Though he hadn't said it, she knew he understood exactly how she felt about Jace's situation and impending parenthood. "I'm great," she said. "You?"

"Same," said Alec. "Jace still keeping out of trouble?"

Clary glanced over at him. He was managing three pans of different types of eggs at once, dicing a potato with one hand as he flipped a fried egg with the other. "I think he's channeling all the trouble into breakfast," said Clary. "I should probably go before he burns the house down." Jace had heard, and he shot her an impish grin.

"Hey, is that Alec?" Isabelle called from the table. "Let me talk to him."

Clary passed her the phone, and she stood up. "Okay, don't hate me," she said into the phone as she started to leave the kitchen. Clary distinctly heard Alec say, "You can't start a conversation like that!" Grinning, she turned around to find that Jace had somehow splattered the wall with egg yolk.

"How?" she sighed. He shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. She shook her head and went to wet a towel.

Several minutes later, the walls were clean and breakfast was ready. Isabelle came back in just as Jace set a plate of eggs and roasted potatoes on the table. Isabelle handed Clary back her phone, looking very happy about something. She shot Clary a dazzling smile as she sat down.

"What?" said Clary.

"You'll see," Isabelle said mysteriously, plucking a potato off the plate and popping it into her mouth.

* * *

A few weeks later, Clary was sitting at the table in the library returning a letter to the head of the Beijing Institute when her phone buzzed. She glanced over at it to see a text from Simon: _Hey! Found a new Malaysian place I want to try out. Lunch today? _

Another text followed quickly. _Sans spouses?_

Smiling, Clary picked up the phone and texted back, _Why, what's Izzy doing?_

He replied immediately. _Nothing! Just wanted some parabatai time._

"Who are you texting?" Jace asked from the desk. "New boyfriend?"

"Yup," Clary said. "He's taller than you, _so_ much sexier..."

"Well, now I know you're lying," said Jace.

Clary laughed. "It's just Simon. He wants me to come out for lunch. If I go, do you promise not to start any fights?"

"I'll do my very best," said Jace gravely. Clary looked back at her phone and typed, _Sounds nice. What time?_

_2\. Meet me at the corner of 8th and 67th. Wear something nice._

Clary glanced at the top of the screen. It was just past noon. She sent Simon a smiley face and set the phone down.

"So is this boyfriend blonde?" Jace said. "I'm just wondering if you have a type."

Clary rolled her eyes. "You're my type, doofus. Now get back to work."

* * *

A little under an hour later, Clary emerged from the subway station. She was wearing a dark blue sweater dress that hugged her belly nicely, leggings, and boots, in one of which she'd stored a dagger, at Jace's request. Simon was leaning against a wall, but sprang up straight as he spotted Clary.

"You're early!" he said. "You said you'd have to wait for the next train."

"I thought I might, but turns out even New Yorkers have a soft spot for hugely pregnant women," Clary said, grinning.

Simon looked strangely flustered. "Yeah, but you weren't supposed to be here for another ten minutes!"

"What does it matter?" said Clary. "It's not like you made a reservation, right?"

"Uh, right, right," said Simon distractedly, glancing at his phone. "Come on, it's this way." He turned away from her, texting someone rapidly. Clary raised her eyebrows, but followed him down the street. "It's just around the corner," said Simon, pointing vaguely ahead toward an alley. He was still texting. Clary sighed.

"Are you going to text all through lunch?" she asked irritably.

"What? Oh, sorry." He put the phone away. "Let's go."

Clary frowned at him, but turned into the alley. It was a dead end. "Simon, are you sure—"

Something came down around her head, obscuring her vision. Instinctively, she drove her elbow back, sinking it into flesh. Her shoulder gave a twinge of pain as Simon wheezed. Clary fought free of him and ripped the blindfold off her head. "What the hell?" she demanded. Simon staggered forward, reaching out for her, and she pulled the dagger out of her boot, leveling it at him. He froze. "What are you?" she said. "Eidolon?"

"What? Clary, no! It's me!"

It sounded like him; it looked like him, it even smelled like him. And when she'd hit him, she'd felt her _parabatai_ rune react. If it wasn't him, how was that possible?

And suddenly, Clary had a horrible realization—_she was dreaming._

Simon advanced on her, holding his hands up. A shadow fell across his face, turning his eyes black. His teeth flashed white, and though she couldn't see it, she knew, she _knew_ he was giving her that smile, the smile that always revealed him as Beelzebub, because Simon didn't smile like that, with that predatory grin. He was saying something, but all she could hear was the rush of blood in her head.

_Wake up_, she thought desperately. She glanced around—there was nothing in the alley that she could use to snap herself awake. Nothing but the dagger in her own hand.

She was breathing in sharp bursts. She'd never had to use a dagger before, there had always been something blunt she could slam down on her arm, or a window she could throw herself out of. But she had to wake up. Before she could lose her nerve, she flipped the dagger, turning it in on herself.

"Clary? Clary! What are you doing?"

He was there in an instant, knocking the blade out of her hand. She tried to stumble away from him, and her back hit the wall. He had both her wrists in his hands; she was powerless.

"It's not real," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "It's not real, it's not real..."

The hold on her wrists released. She flung her hands up over her face; this was always the part where he tried to kiss her.

"Clary," he said, and in the back of her head she could hear Beelzebub. _Clary..._ "Clary, I'm really sorry," said Simon. "This was stupid, and I swear this is the last time I listen to Isabelle."

Clary bit back a sob. He still sounded like her Simon.

"She's throwing you a baby shower, okay?" Simon said in a rush. "I was supposed to blindfold you and put you in the Portal, which was supposed to open—" Clary heard a rush of wind. "Now," he finished.

Slowly, Clary lowered her hands. He was looking at her with a very un-Beelzebub-like expression, a mixture of worry and shame. At the end of the alley, a Portal had opened, glowing blue around the edges with what she recognized as Magnus's magic.

"What?" she breathed.

"She wanted to surprise you," Simon said weakly. "I'm so sorry, Clary. I didn't mean to scare you."

The Portal was dwindling; after a moment, it closed. They stood there in silence. As the seconds ticked by, Clary realized that Simon hadn't moved, hadn't tried to come after her again. He was backed up against the opposite wall, giving her space.

"I'm not dreaming?" she whispered.

"No," he said.

Something inside her broke. Her knees buckled, and he was there, wrapping his arms around her, not to restrain her, but just to hold her. She sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh, Clary, I'm really sorry..." He pulled away from her slightly, looking down at her. "You...you're still having nightmares? About Beelzebub?"

She nodded slowly, wiping her tears away. He released her, letting her lean against the wall. Her legs were shaking.

"But he's not...he can't be back...right?"

"No," said Clary. Her voice sounded thin to her own ears. "They're just nightmares. Normal ones."

"I wish you'd told me," Simon said softly.

Clary blinked back more tears. "I just wanted it to be over," she whispered. She drove her palms into her eyes, willing herself to get it together.

"I'm really sorry," Simon said again.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," he said. "Look, we don't have to go. I'll tell Isabelle to call it off."

She shook her head. "No, we should go. She went to all this trouble."

"Are you sure?" Simon said. "We can wait a little longer if you need to."

"I'm okay," she said, drawing in a deep breath. "Let's go. Do you have a stele?"

He pulled one out and handed it to her. She turned around to make the Portal. As it opened, Simon put a hand to it to hold it open and offered his other hand to Clary. She glanced back; the dagger glinted at her from the ground. She drew in another breath and took Simon's hand, letting him guide her into the Portal.

A dizzying maelstrom later, Clary toppled out into what looked like another maelstrom, so packed and chaotic that she could barely make out what was happening.

"SURPRISE!" a great chorus shouted.

Clary blinked. They seemed to be in Magnus and Alec's apartment, though they had clearly redecorated for the party. The walls were a soft yellow, the furniture pushed up against them to allow for more room, and they had hung up a huge banner that said, _CONGRATULATIONS CLARY & JACE!_ In one corner was a veritable mountain of presents, plus a yellow-iced layered cake that was slightly lopsided; Clary hoped Isabelle hadn't baked it herself.

Speaking of Isabelle, she was staring right at Clary. In fact, many people were staring at her; Magnus and Alec were there of course, with Max and Rafe; Jace was standing next to them; her parents were squashed with Maryse in a corner beside a small gaggle of vampires, including Lily Chen; Maia and Bat were there with some of their pack; even the faerie Kaelie Whitewillow from Taki's Diner had shown up.

Simon stepped out of the Portal beside Clary. Isabelle's gaze immediately shot to him. "You told her, didn't you?" she said accusingly. The crowd dissolved into groans. "You had _one job!"_

"Isabelle," said Simon warningly.

Jace was still looking at Clary. She could read the question in his eyes. With a huge effort, she forced a smile onto her face. "This is great, Izzy," she said, going over to hug Isabelle. "Thank you for doing all this."

"Aw, it was nothing," Isabelle said, though she looked very pleased.

"Speak for yourself," said Magnus, setting Max down. He immediately tore across the room, making a beeline for the cake, and Alec dashed after him. "I had to send out invitations, reorganize my whole apartment, and gather all these supplies with only two weeks' notice. Magnus Bane does not throw a soiree with only two weeks' notice!"

"Don't you just use magic for everything?" said Clary.

"Semantics," Magnus sniffed. Clary would have continued the conversation, but people were already coming up to her, congratulating her and bombarding her with questions about the baby. At one point, Kaelie asked to rub her belly and offered to give her a draught that would ensure the baby had an excellent head of hair. Clary made some excuse and turned away, only to collide with Jace.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied. "Did you know about all this?"

He smiled. "Sorry," he said. "Isabelle made me swear to keep it a secret." He gazed down at her. "You okay?" he said in an undertone. "You looked really shaken when you came out of the Portal."

"Anybody want cake?" Isabelle called across the room before Clary could respond. "I baked it myself!"

The other side of the room suddenly became a lot more packed, leaving Isabelle standing by the cake by herself. She shrugged. "Maybe later," she said to Clary.

Clary caught Simon's eye as he made his way over to Isabelle; he gave her a tentative smile, and she tried to return it, but it felt as if someone had seized her stomach in their fist.

"Clary, do you want to cut it?" Isabelle asked, wrapping herself around Simon.

"I...um..." She swallowed against her dry throat. "In a minute. I just need to go to the bathroom." She shot Jace a significant look as she turned around and made her way down the hallway.

She had only been in the bathroom for a minute when there was a soft knock on the door. She opened it immediately, letting Jace squeeze past her and closing the door behind him.

"What's going on?" he said without preamble.

She sat down on the toilet, and he perched on the edge of the bathtub, waiting. Chewing on her lip, she hesitantly explained what had happened. Jace kept his gaze on her as she talked, his golden eyes unreadable. She told most of the story to his shoes.

"And I—I don't know what's happening to me, Jace," she finished, her voice shaking. She chanced a look at him; his face was a mask. "Say something," she whispered.

He gave her a searching look. "If Simon hadn't been there, do you think you would have done it?"

She glanced away again, rubbing her left arm compulsively. "No. I don't know. I don't think so. But if Simon hadn't been there, I wouldn't have thought I was dreaming in the first place. It's not like I'm hallucinating. Any—anymore..."

Her anxiety must have shown on her face, because Jace laid a comforting hand on her arm. "He's gone," he said gently. "You know he is. He can't hurt you anymore."

"No, but that makes it worse!" Clary burst out. "Because if it's not him, then it's me. There's something _wrong_ with me. And I thought it was getting better, once the nightmares stopped happening as much, but now this..." She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. "What if it never ends?" she whispered.

"It will," Jace said, now rubbing her shoulder in soothing circles. The sensation made her want to jump out of her own skin, and she shrugged him off, standing up. "You _have_ been getting better," he said, gazing up at her. "I think this is just a one-time thing. It doesn't mean you're not making progress." He came over to her, touching her cheek lightly. "Talk to me," he said softly.

"I feel..." She drew in a shuddering breath. "Broken."

"Clary," Jace said. "You're not broken. You're not crazy. You went through something awful, that doesn't just all go away. But you're fighting it. And every day, you get a little better. One day at a time, remember?"

"But today..." She closed her eyes. "Is it just a setback or something more?"

"I don't know if I can answer that," Jace said. "But does worrying about it help?"

"No," she admitted.

"So then don't," Jace said simply. "Choose to believe you'll get past this."

She gazed at him, a tear escaping her eye. He wiped it away, waiting for her to break the silence.

"You're right," she said eventually.

"Aren't I always?"

She rolled her eyes at him, managing a smile. "We should get back out there, they'll think we're having sex in here or something."

"Well..." said Jace, raising an eyebrow suggestively. She rolled her eyes again and opened the door to the bathroom.

"Finally!" Isabelle said as Clary reentered the living room, Jace following a moment after. "Can you please come over here and cut the cake so I don't feel bad about eating it?"

"We're all going to feel bad about eating it," Jace muttered into Clary's ear. She struggled to not laugh as she went over to Isabelle and took the proffered knife, Jace following reluctantly.

"I wasn't sure if you were having a boy or girl, so I decided to go with yellow," Isabelle said, gesturing vaguely at the decorations as Clary cut a slice of cake. "So? What is it?"

"We don't know for sure," Clary said. "But I think it's a boy."

"Aww," Isabelle said, pouting. "I was hoping it'd be a girl. We have way too many boys in this family."

Clary slid the slice of cake onto a plate, noticing that it was swirled with a sludgy substance that was a very odd shade of green. "Um, Izzy, what is that?" she asked, pointing.

"Grape jelly," Isabelle said, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to put in cake batter.

"Why is it green?" Clary asked, not certain she wanted an answer.

Isabelle inspected the cake. "I'm not sure. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be baked." She shrugged and went to get herself a fork.

"I begged her to buy a cake," Simon said, grimacing.

Isabelle returned and stabbed the fork into the slice of cake, taking a bite. "It's pretty good," she said around her mouthful. "You want some?"

"Uh, I just ate," said Clary hastily. "Maybe in a bit."

"Simon? Jace?"

"Upset stomach," said Jace immediately.

"Lactose intolerant," Simon followed up.

Isabelle gave them both a probing look before taking another defiant bite. "Did you guys pick out a name yet?" she asked Clary.

"Yeah..." She looked at Jace. They hadn't shared the name with anyone yet, except Clary's parents and Tessa and Jem.

"We should make an announcement," Jace said. "Otherwise people will keep asking us." Clary nodded, and Jace waved his hand in the air, gathering everyone's attention.

"We wanted to thank everyone for coming," Clary said, smiling around at the crowd, "and to tell you all the baby's name."

Jace took her hand. "We've decided to name the baby William, after one of my ancestors, and his middle name will be Jonathan."

"What if it's a girl?" Maia asked.

Clary and Jace glanced at each other. "We haven't decided yet," Clary said. "So if anyone has any suggestions—"

"Personally," Isabelle interjected, "I think Isabelle is a perfect name. It's classic, elegant—"

"But Maia is much more modern," Maia put in.

"You can't go wrong with Lily," said Lily.

They started to squabble, Isabelle abandoning the cake to join the conversation. Everyone else seemed to take this as a cue to continue partying, and turned away. Only Simon was still looking at Clary and Jace.

"Jonathan," he said. "As in..."

Before he could finish, Alec appeared, having finally succeeded in recapturing Max. He sat in his father's arms, looking very grumpy. Magnus showed up a moment later, holding Rafe's hand. "That's a lovely name," he said. "Tessa and Jem must be happy."

Alec bit his lip. "I don't mean to sound judgmental, but Jonathan...I mean, do you think..."

Clary sighed. "I know how it must look. But he wasn't Sebastian. Not really. And it's more for my mom than anything. For the son she lost."

"Hmm," said Alec, still looking a little troubled, but before he could say anything else, Max's little blue arm shot out faster than any of them could see and knocked into the cake. It fell to the floor with a loud _splat_.

"Max," said Jace very seriously, "I do believe you've just saved us all." Max looked very pleased with himself.

"No!" Isabelle moaned, rushing over. "I spent all morning on that!" She whirled on Alec, who was still holding his son. Max licked frosting off the side of his hand.

"Sorry, Izzy," said Alec quickly. "I should go get Max cleaned up." He was gone before Isabelle could get a word in. She huffed and started to clean up the cake. Simon grabbed a pile of napkins and went to help, but not before catching Clary's eye; she saw something oddly accusatory in his gaze.

"Clary!" Maia called from across the room. "Come over here, let's get a picture of you and Jace under the banner."

The next several minutes were filled with a steady flow of people swarming Clary and Jace, mostly to talk about the baby's name—really, mostly about the middle name. After answering the same question somewhere around fifteen times, Clary snapped.

"Yes!" she shouted at Lily. "I'm naming my son after my brother, and yes, I know he was evil, but you'll notice we're not naming him _Sebastian_, we're naming him _Jonathan! _Does that about answer your question?"

The room had gone very quiet. Jace cleared his throat. "This might be a good time to start opening presents," he said, a little too loudly. "What do you think, Clary?"

She took a deep breath and pressed her lips into a smile. "Sure. Sounds great."

The tension broke, and people went to retrieve their presents from the corner, avoiding the splatters of icing on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Clary saw her parents approaching with Maryse tagging along behind them.

"Oh, look at you, you're glowing!" said Maryse, hugging Clary tightly. "I got you something you'll really like, let me go get it..." She joined the crowd of people clamoring to grab their presents.

Clary looked at her parents. Jocelyn gave her a sympathetic smile. "I should have known the name would be such a point of contention," said Clary wearily.

"You can always change it," Jocelyn said. "If you want to."

Clary shook her head. "I don't. It feels right to me. Screw what anyone else thinks." Luke reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back before releasing him and heading over to one of the couches against the wall, where the others had gathered.

"Open mine first," said Maryse excitedly, handing her a large box wrapped neatly in green paper. Clary sat down, Jace beside her, and began to tear the paper off the box. It turned out to be a delicate mobile with tiny metal birds hanging down on golden ribbons. "Herons," said Maryse, beaming proudly. "I had it specially made."

Clary smiled. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Maryse."

They continued to open gifts over the next half-hour; Magnus and Alec had given them a large box of clothes that Magnus had enchanted to grow with the baby, and Lily had gotten them a set of extra-sturdy pacifiers. "In case it has fangs," she said, grinning and showing the points of her own fangs. Jace got particularly excited by Maia's gift of what he thought was a stuffed hellhound demon, before Maia pointed out that it was a wolf.

"Do you really want your kid cuddling with a hellhound anyway?" Clary asked him, amused, as she took the next present from Simon.

"Fair point," Jace said as Clary opened the gift. Simon and Isabelle had gotten them a set of books with colorful covers and titles like "My Darling Little Nuisance" and "Just Go to Sleep Already, You Whiny Brat." Clary raised her eyebrows at Simon.

"Izzy's idea," he said.

Isabelle shrugged. "If the kid's anything like Jace, he'll need the books. Trust me."

At last, all the presents had been opened, except for Jocelyn and Luke's; they had gotten them a crib, Jocelyn explained, and were having it shipped directly to the Institute. The floor seemed to have been replaced with a sea of wrapping paper and gift bags. Magnus snapped his fingers and the mess vanished. The party appeared to be winding down. People came up to Clary and Jace to hug them one last time before gathering their things. Sometime in the chaos, Max crawled up onto the couch beside Clary.

"Aunt Clary," he said, looking up at her with wide eyes, "why is your tummy so big?"

"Because that's where the baby is," said Clary, smiling as she rubbed her belly.

Max looked horrified. "You _ate_ a baby?!"

"No!" said Clary, laughing. "That's just where babies grow until they're ready to come out."

"In their mommies' tummies?" said Max, looking dubious.

"That's right."

Max scrutinized her for a moment. "Aunt Clary," he said again, "how did the baby get in your tummy?"

"Um." Clary glanced at Jace; he gave her a look that clearly said, _you're on your own._ She scowled at him and turned back to Max, who was patiently awaiting her answer. "Well," she began awkwardly. "You see—um—you know," she said, with a sudden stroke of inspiration, "this is a really great question to ask your daddies. Why don't you talk about it with them?"

"Okay," said Max, hopping off the couch. Clary let out a breath of relief. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jace shaking with silent laughter.

Max had made his way over to Alec and was tugging insistently on his shirt. "Daddy," he said, his voice carrying through the room, "where do babies come from?"

Everyone went suddenly silent. Alec froze, his eyes bugging out of his head. Clary gave him an apologetic smile.

"Nope," he said abruptly. "I'm not answering that."

"But—"

"You'll know when you're older!" said Alec, his voice pitching up an octave. "Okay, everyone, time to go home! Bye! Thanks for coming!" He handed Max off to Magnus and began to shoo people out of the apartment.

Jace burst into laughter, clutching the arm of the sofa for support. "Alec's going to kill you," he informed Clary between wheezes.

She smacked his shoulder. "Thanks for all the help, asshole!"

Howling with laughter, Jace slid off the couch and onto the floor.

* * *

**A/N: If you liked this chapter, please leave a review! Thanks for reading.**

**~4L**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Simon traipsed into the Institute, whistling tunelessly as he knocked snow off his coat. Isabelle was spending the afternoon with her brother, which left Simon to spend it with his _parabatai._ And her husband, though he hoped that wouldn't be necessary.

He hung up his coat and headed down the hallway. It was oddly quiet; the stone walls dampened the noise of the cars and wind outside, but he thought as he approached the library that he should have been able to hear Jace and Clary. When he opened the door, he found out why it was so silent: Jace was nowhere to be seen, and Clary was dozing in the desk chair, her head propped on one hand and a fine dribble of spit forming a pool on the surface of the desk.

Simon hovered in the doorway for a moment, but before he could decide what to do, she jerked awake. "Simon?" she said blearily.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

She shook her head, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "You didn't," she said. She stared at him for a long moment. "Crap. _Crap_. We were supposed to hang out today, weren't we?"

"Yeah," Simon admitted, "but the weather's terrible. Let's just stay in here."

Clary glanced out the window; a gentle cloud of snow drifted past. She raised her eyebrows at Simon.

"It's very cold," he said.

Clary smiled in a way that told Simon she knew exactly what he was doing, but appreciated it nonetheless. "I guess we'll stay in, then," she said. "Come on, pull up a chair."

He joined her at the desk, dragging one of the chairs from the table over to her. Up close, she looked very pale, the circles under her eyes all the more dark for it.

"You okay?" he said. "You're not still having nightmares, are you?"

She looked down. "Sometimes," she said. "Not as often anymore."

"That's good," Simon said.

She nodded. "I don't think I ever really apologized to you," she said. "About what happened before the baby shower."

"Why would you need to apologize?" said Simon. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Clary sighed, fiddling with a pen on the desk. "I feel a little stupid about it. Like I overreacted."

Simon took this in for a moment. "Clary," he said slowly, "do you think you might have PTSD?"

Her gaze shot to him. "What?" she said. "No. I don't think so."

"But way you reacted," Simon said, "like it was still happening, like it was real...and the nightmares...I don't know. It all just sounds like PTSD." She was looking at him with an uneasy expression. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to open a can of worms."

"No," she said. "I mean, maybe you're right. I just..." She tugged on a lock of her hair. "I didn't want to feel like I was making a big deal out of it."

"But it was a big deal," said Simon.

"Yeah...Jace said something similar." She was chewing her lip. "I don't know. I don't think it really matters what I call it. The point is that I'm getting better."

"Are you?" Simon said, watching her closely.

She fiddled with the papers on her desk, straightening them unnecessarily. "I want to be," she said eventually.

"There's no shame in asking for help," Simon said gently.

"I don't know who to ask," she said.

"No," Simon admitted, "I guess you couldn't explain all this to a psychiatrist. And Silent Brothers don't really do the mental health thing..."

"Exactly." She sighed and let her hands drop into her lap. "I think I'll be okay," she said quietly. "I think I'm getting better."

"I'm glad," said Simon.

She gave him a soft smile and began to separate one of the large stacks of papers into smaller piles. "I'm sorry, Simon, I can talk while I work, but I really have to get a couple of things done—ouch." She looked down at her stomach. "Behave," she told it sternly.

"You know he can't understand you, right?" said Simon, amused.

"Oh, believe me, he understands when Jace talks to him," Clary said darkly. "Biased little asshole," she added, but the twitch of her lip gave her away.

"Where is Jace, anyway?" Simon asked. "Can't he do this? You look like you could use a break."

"I could," Clary sighed, "but he's cleaning up the armory, which is rather difficult for me to do in my current condition." She gathered up the largest pile of papers and stood up with a soft grunt, moving toward the filing cabinet.

"Let me help," said Simon, already getting up, but she waved him down with the few free fingers she had.

"I got it," she said, opening a drawer with her foot and dropping the papers in. "I can handle it," she said, though she sounded very winded. Pursing his lips, Simon sat back down. Clary took a little longer, rubbing her belly and wincing.

"Are you okay?" Simon asked.

"Yeah," Clary said, lowering herself into her chair. "I'm fine. Just...sore. He must really be bruising my insides." As she reached across the desk to start sorting the rest of the papers, the collar of her shirt dipped several inches.

"Uh, Clary," said Simon, averting his eyes. "Your shirt is very, ah, low-cut."

Clary glanced down. "Oh," she said, laying a hand over her chest with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I've just figured lately that if the only good thing I have from this pregnancy is fantastic boobs, I might as well show them off a little."

"The _only_ good thing?" said Simon, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, once the baby comes, there'll be two good things, but as of now all I've got are boobs," said Clary, grinning.

"Not much longer now, though, is it?" Simon said.

"Eight more weeks," Clary sighed, leaning back in her chair as she rested a hand on her belly. "His due date can't come soon enough, in my opinion."

"I still can't believe you're naming him after _Sebastian_," said Simon, scowling.

"Technically, we're naming him after Jace's ancestor," said Clary lightly, though there was a slight undercurrent of tension in her voice. "_Jonathan_ is only his middle name."

"Still more than he deserves," Simon said stubbornly. "He tried to take over the world and almost killed us all, and you're naming your son after him."

"I'm naming my son after my brother, who never got a chance to be good because Valentine destroyed him," Clary snapped. Her eyes simmered with anger. "And in case you forgot, it was Jonathan who told us how to kill the Endarkened and end the war. He _saved_ us all in the end. They weren't the same person."

"Look," said Simon, abandoning all pretense, "you have to understand what it means to the rest of us. Your brother was Sebastian, by blood at least, and that's all anyone knew him as. So you can say you're naming him after your brother, but all anyone else sees is you naming him after the guy who started the Dark War."

"He didn't even use the name Jonathan," Clary shot at him. "He didn't want it, because it wasn't him. You were there, Simon! You know he was different at the end."

"I'm just telling you how everyone else sees it," Simon said. "People can't separate the two like you can. They're not going to see it like you do."

"You mean you," said Clary, frowning. "_You_ can't separate the two of them."

"Fine, I can't," Simon said, folding his arms. "Him changing at the end doesn't negate all the horrible stuff he did."

"But it _wasn't him_," Clary said angrily. "Don't you understand? The demon blood corrupted him. That's not who he was. That's not who he would have been. I'm naming my son for the brother I never got to have, and the son my mother lost." She sat back in her chair, curling her arm around her belly. "You don't have to like it," she said. "And if it bothers you that much, you can pretend we named him after Jace. But I'm done defending our choice, so just drop it, okay?"

"I..." Simon glanced down. "You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start a fight."

"It's okay," said Clary. The anger seemed to drain out of her. "I'm just so tired of explaining it to everyone. It's really no one else's business."

"You're right," Simon said. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not my place."

"Thanks," Clary said. She sighed. "Look, I know you don't fully understand, but Jace and I are happy with it, okay? And my mom really—_ooh._" She broke off, wincing as she put a hand to her belly.

Simon sat up a little straighter. "You okay?" he said cautiously.

She nodded tightly. "Just a cramp," she said in a strained voice.

"Um," Simon said. "Now, I'm not an expert, by any means, but aren't contractions supposed to feel like cramps?"

She didn't answer; she was clutching the arm of her chair tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. "Clary?" said Simon, half-rising from his chair as his _parabatai _rune prickled. "Should I—do you need a Silent Brother?"

Clary exhaled slowly, sinking back into her chair. "No," she said, her voice shaky. "I'm okay. It wasn't a real contraction, I don't think."

"Looked pretty real from where I'm sitting," Simon pointed out.

"It's just false labor," she said slightly breathlessly. "My body's preparing for birth. No big deal."

"But...is it supposed to be that painful?"

She shrugged, suddenly looking exhausted, but before Simon could say anything more, one of the phones on the desk began to ring. Clary picked it up.

"New York Inst—Maia?" She pressed the phone against her ear. "How many?" She listened for a moment. "Is anyone hurt? Okay, that's good. We can send someone over to—" She broke off, her face turning white.

"What's wrong?" Simon said, but she ignored him.

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know. We'll be right there." She hung up the phone, looking unnerved.

"What is it?" Simon pressed, but she stood up and moved around the desk, one hand on her belly.

"I—I need to find Jace," she said shakily. "Come with me."

* * *

Jace was just sliding a stack of neatly folded gear onto a shelf when the armory door opened. "Hey," he said without looking. "I'm almost done, I can help you with—"

"Jace."

He turned around. Clary and Simon were standing in the doorway, both with grave expressions on their faces. "What's going on?" Jace said, his heart beating a little harder.

"Maia called," said Clary. "A demon attacked the pack's headquarters. They're all okay, they managed to capture it, but it—it's asking for you."

Jace took a moment to process this. A couple months ago, he would have been scrambling to strap on his weapons belt and Portal over, but now he hesitated.

"Okay," he said eventually. "Okay. This is good, Clary. We might finally be able to get some answers. I'll call Magnus and Alec." He looked at Simon. "I think you and Izzy should come, too, if you're up for it. We could probably use the extra help."

"Wait," said Clary as he made to start gathering weapons. "I don't think you should go."

"Clary," he said gently. "This isn't like last time. I'll be careful, I promise."

"I know, but I'm asking you not to go, okay?" She came over to him and grabbed his arm before he could take down his sword. "The others can handle it."

"If it's asking for me, I don't think it'll talk to anyone else," Jace said calmly, tucking an errant curl behind Clary's ear. "If anything happens, Magnus will Portal me back. I'll be fine."

"Jace," Clary said, "we talked about this."

"Yes," said Jace, trying to hold onto his patience. "We talked about me not being a reckless idiot. I'm not being reckless. I'm taking precautions. I'm not going alone."

"I don't want you to go!" said Clary.

Jace made a noise of frustration. "Seriously? After all this, you still don't trust me, do you?"

"It's not about that—"

"Cut the crap, Clary," Jace said, folding his arms. "How am I supposed to prove I've changed if you won't even give me a chance?"

"I will give you a _different_ chance," Clary ground out. "Just not today."

"If we don't get answers today, then this will keep happening!" said Jace. "We can't keep living in fear, Clary. And it would be one thing if it was just me, but they went after Simon and Izzy, and now Maia...we have to end this."

"I understand that," said Clary, "but—"

"So then what's the issue?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Clary said stubbornly.

Jace blew out an exasperated breath. "Of course you do. But then admit it's that. Admit you're just scared, and it has nothing to do with me or—"

"Of course I'm scared!" Clary shouted. "What if it's a trap, like at the hotel? And you're just going to go charging in there like an idiot—"

"Charging in? We have a plan! A _good_ plan!" said Jace furiously.

"Make another one. One that doesn't involve you."

Jace balled his hands into fists. How could she be so uncompromising? "It has to be me, Clary, you know that," he said through clenched teeth. "But the problem is that you don't seem to understand the difference between taking unnecessary risks and doing my duty. In case you forgot, we have a job that doesn't just involve sitting around filing paperwork. Mandate from heaven? Duty to the mundanes? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"What about your duty to me?" Clary snapped. "_Set me as a seal upon thy heart—_any of _that_ ringing a bell?"

"Look," Simon began, "I think—"

Jace rounded on him. "You stay out of this," he snarled.

"Don't talk to him like that," said Clary sharply. "I want to hear his opinion."

"Only because you know he's going to agree with you!"

"Actually," Simon interjected, "I was going to say that both of you need to calm down. All this stress probably isn't good for Clary."

"I'm not fragile, Simon," Clary snapped.

"I know, but—"

Clary cut him off. "You know what? Forget it." She turned back to Jace. "You want to go, go. God knows I can't stop you. You always do whatever you want anyway, don't you?"

"Clary," said Jace quietly.

"Just g—" She broke off, her face spasming. Behind them, Simon sucked in a breath; Jace turned to see his fingers flutter to his forearm.

"Clary?" said Simon, stepping forward.

"I'm fine," she said in a strangled voice. She had squeezed her eyes shut, and her hands were gripping the edge of the weapons table so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

"No, you're not," said Jace, moving towards her. "What's going on?" She shook her head, half-bent over. "Clary—"

"Don't go," she whimpered.

"Okay," Jace said, alarmed at her sudden shift in tone. "I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what's—"

She let out a sudden cry, doubling over as her knees buckled.

"Clary!" Jace shouted, springing toward her. She slid down the wall, her chest heaving as she fisted her hands against her belly. "Get a Silent Brother!" Jace shouted to Simon over his shoulder, and Simon backed out of the room, taking off at a run. Jace dropped down beside Clary, taking her hand in his. "What's happening?"

"Something's—wrong—" Clary choked out. A strangled sob escaped her. "Jace, _something's wrong_."

"Clary," said Jace sharply. "Look at me." Her terrified green eyes met his. "You have to try to stay calm," he said, his voice softening. "Breathe, okay?"

She nodded, exhaling as she closed her eyes. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. "Something's wrong," she whispered again. "He stopped kicking, he never stops kicking—" Her grip on his hand tightened, and she cried out again.

"Breathe, Clary," said Jace desperately, wishing he could say something more helpful.

Her eyes flew open suddenly. "Oh—oh, God..."

"What?"

She put a shaking hand between her legs and drew it back. Her fingers were stained red.

Jace's stomach went cold.

Clary squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, God," she whispered. "No, no, no, this is a dream, please tell me I'm dreaming..."

Jace didn't have a chance to respond; at that moment, the doors to the room burst open, and two Silent Brothers strode into the room.

_Give us space,_ said one of their voices in his head.

"No," Jace snarled, tightening his hold on Clary's hand, but then a hand clamped down around his arm, hauling him up and away from Clary.

"No!" he shouted again, struggling to free himself. "Get off me, let me stay with her—"

"Jace," said a voice in his ear. It was Simon. "We have to let them help her, we have to get out of the way..." And he dragged Jace backward, out of the room. The last thing Jace saw before the doors slammed shut was Clary's pale, terrified face between the cloaks of the Silent Brothers.

The moment the doors closed, Jace wrenched his arm out of Simon's grip, shoving him away. "What the hell is the matter with you?" he shouted. "I need to be in there with her!"

"You can't help her," Simon said gently, though his face was tight with pain. He was very pale, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide with fear. "You think I don't know how you feel?"

"No, you _don't know!_" Jace bellowed. "It's _my_ kid she's losing in there, it's—" The reality of his words hit him, and all the energy left him in a rush. He slid down the wall, shaking uncontrollably.

Simon stared at him; he seemed at a loss for words. Jace heard Clary cry out again from within the room. He gripped his arms, digging his nails in, feeling blood burst beneath his fingers.

The seconds stretched into minutes. It felt like they had been waiting an eternity. At some point, Simon came over and sat beside Jace, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Someone needs to deal with Maia," Jace said. His voice barely scraped past his throat.

"It can wait," said Simon. "They have it trapped."

"They don't have runes," Jace said. "It won't stay trapped for long. You should go call the others."

"But...what about what you said? If it won't give us any answers without you—"

"Then kill it," said Jace. "I don't care. I'm staying here." He was surprised to hear himself say it. The last time Clary's life had been in danger, he'd jumped at the chance to lose his pain in fighting demons.

After a long moment, Simon got to his feet. "Will you—will you call me if..."

Jace nodded, turning his attention back to the door. He felt Simon's eyes on him, but didn't return his gaze. Finally, Simon turned and walked away. Jace listened to his footsteps recede until the hall was silent once more.

Inside the room, Clary screamed.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Maia demanded as Simon came into the police station.

"Where's everyone else?" Simon asked.

Maia pursed her lips, clearly not pleased with his lack of an answer, but she pointed at the stairwell. "The Shadowhunters are down there. I told the pack to leave. I thought this might get messy."

"Probably," said Simon.

"Where's Jace? Isabelle said they can't do anything until he gets here."

"He's not coming," said Simon shortly.

Maia surveyed him. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

Simon swallowed and didn't respond. His arm throbbed painfully. "I should get down there," he said, moving past her. He yanked open the door to the stairwell and descended into the basement.

"Finally!" Isabelle said as he approached. "What took you so long?"

There was a loud growling noise from behind her, followed by rattling and a burst of blue light. Simon looked around Isabelle; Alec and Magnus were standing in front of a padlocked cage just a little taller than Simon. He stared at the demon; it was barely contained in the cage, and he silently commended Maia's pack for having managed to capture it at all. He thought it might be a drevak demon, though it was hard to tell since its flesh was squeezing through the holes in the cage, distorting its figure.

"Helloooo?" Isabelle said, snapping her fingers in front of Simon's nose. "Earth to Simon."

"Sorry," he said, snapping his attention to her. "What are we doing?"

_"Jace Herondale!"_ the demon snarled. Isabelle turned around, looking exasperated.

"Yes," she said. "We _know_ you want Jace. You've made that very clear." She looked back at Simon. "Speaking of Jace, where is he?"

"He couldn't—we'll have to do this without him," Simon said.

"Why?" Alec looked alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Simon said. "He's fine. Or—look, we can talk about it later. We need to deal with this demon first."

_"JACE HERONDALE!"_ the demon screeched.

Even Alec looked a little irritated. "That's all it's said since we showed up," he said. "It'll only talk to Jace."

"Well, he can't be here," said Simon, a little more sharply than he had intended. "So does anyone have any other ideas?"

"I've got one," said Isabelle. She whipped a seraph blade out of her belt, muttering, _"Jahoel!"_ The seraph blade activated, and Isabelle marched straight over to the cage, slicing a long cut across the demon's skin through the grate of the cage. It screeched; not a fatal wound, but a deep one.

"Talk," said Isabelle, pointing the blade at it. "You're looking for Jace. Why?"

The demon hissed, shifting in the cage; more of it oozed through the holes. _"Master,"_ it spat.

"Yes," Isabelle said patiently, "we know you have a master. Does your master have a name?" The demon growled, but said nothing. Isabelle spun the blade in her hand and opened another long cut in the demon's side.

_"MASTER!" _it shrieked.

"This is useless," said Alec. "It's not going to talk without Jace. We need him here."

"I don't know," said Magnus, chewing his lip. "This might all be a trap, like last time. Maybe we should just kill it."

"We need answers," Isabelle said, folding her arms. "This might be our only chance."

Alec shook his head. "It's not our only chance, because if we don't get answers now, demons will keep coming after Jace. We have to put a stop to this."

"This 'master' isn't just going to show up," Simon said. "No matter what we do right now, we're not going to just stop it all today."

"Especially because the master _can't_ show up," Magnus said. "Sending that horde of lesser demons was the extent of his powers. Simon's right. Even if we could figure out who it is, we can't do anything about it. Not if he's trapped in a different dimension."

"So, what, we just let demons keep attacking Jace?" Alec said. "At least if we know who it is, we can figure out why they want Jace in the first place."

_"JACE!" _the demon screamed. They all simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"I'm with Alec," Isabelle said, spinning her seraph blade around her wrist. "Can you gut a demon without killing it?" she asked thoughtfully.

The demon screeched, writhing in its cage. _"MASTER! MASTER!"_

The room felt suddenly very cold; the demon went still. _"Master,"_ it hissed.

Heat flared from the demon. The cage burst apart, shards of metal flying everywhere. Isabelle yanked Simon to the side as a jagged bar drove into the wall, right where his head had been. There was no time to thank her; the demon thrashed, sending the remnants of the cage careening across the floor toward Alec. Magnus clapped his hands, and the cage disappeared.

The four of them converged on the demon, blocking it in as it made for the stairs. Simon drew his sword, slashing up at the demon. What should have been a mortal blow glanced off the demon's skin, forcing Simon to stagger back. Beside him, Isabelle and Alec were having similar problems.

"What's going on?" Isabelle shouted.

"It's drawing power from something!" Magnus said. Isabelle uncoiled her whip, flicking it three times in quick succession. The first and second hits were repelled, but on the third try, Simon heard it slice through skin. Ichor dribbled onto the floor.

"We have to hit it fast!" Alec said. "Magnus, Izzy, and I will deal quick, small blows to weaken it, and Simon, you finish it off!"

Isabelle nodded and began to slash at the demon with her whip as Alec shot it with arrow after arrow and Magnus threw jets of blue flame at it. Simon held his sword at the ready. Half of their attacks bounced off the demon harmlessly, but he could see it losing steam. They beat it back, away from the door.

Suddenly, Simon's arm gave a horrible flare of pain, nearly causing him to drop his sword.

"Simon!" Isabelle screamed. "Now!"

He grit his teeth and leapt forward, driving his sword up and into the demon's heart. It shrieked as ichor splattered the floor. Simon tore his sword out of the demon, and it began to crumple in on itself, vanishing.

"I may have been wrong about the master's powers," said Magnus mildly.

The rune on Simon's arm seared white-hot. This time he did drop his sword, gasping as he clutched his arm.

"Simon?" Isabelle was at his side. "What's wrong?" He pushed his sleeve up, running his fingers across his _parabatai _rune. It looked normal, but pain seized his whole arm. "Simon," said Isabelle sharply. "Tell us what the hell is going on."

"It's Clary," he gasped out before he could stop himself. "I think she's losing the baby."

Isabelle paled. "Oh my God. Oh my _God._ That's why Jace isn't here." She grabbed his good arm. "We have to go. _Now._"

* * *

Time crawled by. At some point, Clary had given a horrible scream and then fallen silent, but the doors remained resolutely closed. When Jace tried to approach, he had felt the Silent Brothers firmly repelling him. The longer he sat there, his legs going numb, the more convinced he was that the baby couldn't be saved. He thought of Clary, of the shine in her eyes when she had whispered to him that she thought it might be a boy, of the pure joy on her face when he had kicked for the first time, of the way she slept on her side, one arm always cradling her belly protectively. He wondered if the baby would have had her eyes.

He didn't know how much time had passed when the others approached.

"Any news?" said Isabelle.

Jace shook his head. "The demon?"

"Dead," Simon said. "We couldn't get anything out of it."

Alec sat down beside Jace, not saying anything. Jace appreciated it; he wasn't sure what would come out of him if he tried to talk about what was happening inside that room.

"Something odd did happen, though," Isabelle said; she had always been a nervous chatterer. She began to describe their fight with the demon. Jace was only half-listening. At some point, Simon touched her arm lightly, murmuring in her ear, and she trailed off.

Part of Jace wished she would keep talking; it was better than this heavy silence, with all of their eyes on him, or flicking between him and the doors. His legs had fallen asleep. He stood and shook them out, then began to pace. He expected someone to reprimand him like they always did, but no one said a word.

Alec's murmur broke the silence. Jace glanced around, but he was talking to Magnus. "The kids are with Mom," Alec explained, catching sight of Jace watching them. "Is it okay if we text and let her know what's going on?"

"Maybe we should tell Clary's parents too," Simon said.

Jace nodded and continued to pace. A hard lump had formed in his throat. _The kids_. The phrase had just seemed to roll off Alec's tongue. His family was such a large part of who he was. If the baby didn't survive, would they still be able to have kids? Would Clary even want to? Or maybe she wouldn't survive this either.

_Don't go,_ she'd said.

He felt a sudden rush of hatred, toward the world, or perhaps toward himself. Why had he wasted all this time trying to track down some demon or other, when he could have been spending it with her, with his family? He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. At last he thought he understood everything Clary had been saying. The demon didn't matter, none of it mattered if he couldn't be with her, if he couldn't hold his son in his arms. And if he'd just realized it a little sooner, he could have had more time with them.

"Jace?" said Isabelle softly. At some point he had begun to cry, hot tears coursing down his cheeks. He wiped them away and continued to pace.

Luke and Jocelyn arrived. The seven of them sat in the hallway, a silent vigil. Night fell through the narrow window, and the witchlight sconces came to life.

At long last, the armory doors opened. Brother Enoch appeared in the doorway, his face impassive. Jace tried to speak, but his voice was stuck in his throat.

_They are both alive._

Sounds of relief broke through the silence. Jocelyn collapsed against the wall, weeping, and Simon gripped Isabelle tightly to him. Blood thundered through Jace's ears. His knees felt weak.

_Clary would like to see you, Jace._

He nodded numbly, wobbling forward; his legs seemed to have turned to water.

Clary was lying on her side in the middle of the room; Jace's stomach flipped as he took in her sweat-soaked hair and the blood all down her legs. She was very pale, but as he knelt beside her, she opened her eyes and gave a weak smile.

"He's okay," she whispered, sliding her hand across her belly. "He's kicking again." Jace reached out a hand hesitantly and laid it on her stomach. The baby's foot moved against his palm.

Tears sprang to his eyes, and he buried his face in Clary's hair, clutching her to him. She turned his head toward her and brushed her lips against his cheek.

_We were able to stop her labor,_ said the other Silent Brother, whose name Jace didn't know. _But the womb is in a precarious state, and we could not change it. She will need to be closely monitored over the next few days and remain on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy._

Clary nodded. Jace opened his mouth to ask how she was feeling, but nothing came out. She seemed to understand anyway. "I'm okay," she said. "Just achy."

The Silent Brothers began to prepare a stretcher to bring her up to the infirmary.

"Jace," Clary said softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I should have trusted you. I _do_ trust you."

"No, I'm sorry," Jace said, finding his voice at last. "I don't care about the demon, I don't care about any of it. All I care about is you. And him." He put his hand on her stomach. "I'm so lucky to have you. _Both _of you. I'm so unbelievably lucky. And I won't ever leave you again."

"Promise?" said Clary, gazing up at him.

"Yes," Jace said. It was the easiest decision he'd ever made. "I promise."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, I know this chapter was a little evil. But everything's fine! For now... :)**

**Please leave a review! There's only a few chapters left, and I'd love to get to 100 by the finale! As always, thanks so much for reading.**

**~4L**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

As February stretched on, the weather began to shift from snowstorms to blustering winds and alternating sleet and rain. Even if Clary had been able to go outside, she was not sure she would have wanted to. Which, she reflected, was probably a good thing, since she was hardly allowed to scratch her nose, as it was.

She had had to spend a week in the infirmary, with Silent Brothers constantly moving in and out of the room to check on her. Her parents came to stay, both to take care of Clary and to help Jace with anything they could do around the Institute. As soon as the Silent Brothers had pronounced Clary stable enough to move into the bedroom, Maryse had arrived, proclaiming herself Clary's caretaker for the remainder of the pregnancy, much to Jocelyn's indignation and despite Clary and Jace's many protestations. She had set up camp in the room across the hall, but spent most of her time in the bedroom fussing over Clary. Jocelyn, apparently, had seen this as a direct attack on her character as a mother, and she and Maryse began a strange kind of rivalry over Clary's well-being. It was only when Clary, having had her pillow fluffed twenty times in half as many minutes, burst out in anger, that they both subsided and agreed to coexist.

Maryse had also decided that with Clary's workload now being much lighter, this was the perfect time to initiate a sort of baby bootcamp, something which, unfortunately for Clary, Jocelyn was fully on-board with. Clary was suddenly surrounded by diapers, swaddling blankets, and pacifiers, along with such a terrifyingly lifelike baby doll that she was slightly afraid to ask where Maryse had found it. Jace had once walked in on both Maryse and Jocelyn supervising as Clary tried to breastfeed the doll, and had immediately walked back out, announcing that things had gotten way too weird for him. Maryse had responded by dragging him into her room and giving him a three-hour crash course on everything she wished Robert had known about babies, by the end of which Jace looked a little cross-eyed and more than a little freaked out. This, Clary learned, was because Maryse had forced him to read a book with graphic illustrations of the cervix dilating during labor.

"I am so sorry you have to go through that," Jace told Clary, shuddering.

"So am I," moaned Clary, who had already been subjected to the book and was seriously wondering if she could invent a rune to bypass childbirth.

One day, when the workload for the Institute was light, Clary and Jace began to convert the room next to theirs into the baby's nursery—or rather, Jace set up the rocking chair, planted Clary firmly in it, and cleared out the rest of the room with the help of Maryse, Clary's parents, Simon, and Isabelle. After they had painted the walls a soft buttercup yellow, Clary was permitted to be on her feet for ten minutes at a time to paint a design of herons and faerie wings all around the room. Jocelyn had offered to do it, but Clary insisted on doing it herself, wanting her son's room to contain a little part of herself. Meanwhile, Jace, Simon, and Luke struggled to put the crib together.

"I swear this thing is in another language," Simon said, turning the instruction sheet upside down as if this would somehow help him decipher it.

"I can actually read ten languages, and even I have no idea what's going on here," said Jace. He stabbed one of the crib's legs with a screwdriver. "I say we let him sleep on the floor. It's better for his back anyway." Clary shot him a sharp glare. "Okay, okay, we'll get the crib figured out."

At last, the crib was put up against the wall (Clary had tested it thoroughly to ensure it was secure), Maryse's mobile hung on the ceiling, and the rest of the nursery decorated with simple wooden furniture. Clary stood in the doorway with Jace, his arm wrapped around her waist.

"This is where he's going to grow up," he murmured into her ear. "Think of all the memories we're going to make."

Clary tried to smile, but her heart felt as if it were constricting. She detangled herself from Jace, moving slowly into the room and looking around at the decorations. She rested her hands on the crib, staring down into it; Jocelyn had placed Clary's own baby blanket into it. It was soft and worn, the pattern of dancing bunnies on it faded. Clary had been very attached to it, apparently; Jocelyn had regaled them all with tales of Clary's infancy when she would drag it around the apartment, refusing to let it go.

Tears sprang suddenly to Clary's eyes. "This is all wrong," she said, wrenching herself away from the crib. "We have to take it down."

"Take what down?"

"All of it. I don't want it." She reached up to try to detach the mobile from the ceiling, her fingers barely brushing it. The herons tinkled as they knocked against each other.

"Clary," Jace said, coming over and gently pulling her arm back to her side. "It looks beautiful. I promise, he'll love it."

"No, he _won't_," Clary snapped, tugging her arm out of his grip.

"Clary," he said again, softly.

She turned away from him, blinking furiously. "I don't want to look at any of this," she said in a hard voice. "I want it gone."

"Clary," Jace said.

She whirled on him._ "Stop saying my name!"_

"Okay," said Jace. "What do you want me to say?"

"Help me take this stuff down."

"Why?"

"Because what if—" She swallowed past the painful lump in her throat, unable to finish the sentence.

Jace's expression softened. He touched the mobile hanging over the crib. "What if he wakes up every morning and looks at this mobile?" he said.

"But—"

Jace cut her off, moving toward the rocking chair. "What if he sits here on your lap, and you read him one of those stupid books Simon and Izzy got us?" He put his hand on the toy chest. "What if he picks out his toys from here, and he leaves them all over the floor, and he refuses to pick them up because, unfortunately, he got both of our stubborn genes?" Clary's lip twitched involuntarily. Jace came over to her, taking her hand in his. "What if he survives?"

"What if he doesn't?" she whispered, finally speaking aloud the words that scared her most. "And what if...what if it's my fault?"

"Why would it be?"

"That day," Clary said, dredging up the words from deep inside her, "I was so angry. I got so worked up, and what if that's why..." She looked away. "The Silent Brothers don't know what caused it. What if it was me?"

"If that's what happened, then I'm as much to blame as you are," said Jace. "I'm the one who made you upset, with that stupid fight. Do you think it's my fault?"

"No," said Clary quietly.

"Then it's not yours either," Jace said. "These things happen, and there's no controlling them. And you said you'd already been having contractions, right?"

"Yeah," Clary admitted.

"So then it couldn't have been that anyway. It could have happened the day before, or the day after. It was just bad timing." He caught a lock of her hair and twisted it around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. "Have faith," he said softly. "He's made it this far. And you and I both know he's too stubborn to give up now."

He smiled down at her, and she managed to return it, letting out the breath she'd been holding.

"Come on," he said. "You've been on your feet long enough. Let's get you back to bed, okay?"

She nodded and let him lead her out of the room.

And so life went on.

* * *

Jace massaged his neck, wincing, as he walked down the hallway. He had spent the last three hours bent over a stack of paperwork in the library and was only now beginning to regain feeling in the fingers of his writing hand. He had to admit that Clary did more than her fair share of work around the Institute; he made a mental note to work harder once she was off bed rest.

When he opened the door to their bedroom, he was surprised to find Clary alone in bed, absorbed in something she was sketching. "Where are the grandmothers-to-be?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "Grabbing last-minute diapers and stuff," she said. "I needed some space."

"How last-minute are we talking here?" said Jace, a little nervously.

Clary laughed. "I'm fine," she said. "Baby's not coming anytime soon."

"No contractions today?"

"A few. Nothing painful."

"Bleeding?"

"No more than usual," Clary said. "Again, I'm _fine_."

He came over to her and perched on the edge of the bed. "What are you working on?"

She flipped the sketchbook over quickly. "Nothing." He raised an eyebrow at her. She bit her lip and handed him the sketchbook reluctantly.

He stared down at the illustration. She had drawn him exactly as he remembered: scarlet skin, blood-red eyes, a chilling leer. A tiny figure, colored in inky black and bright gold, was crumpled at his feet.

"Clary," he said softly.

She took the sketchbook back and closed it. "I just can't shake this feeling," she said.

"What feeling?"

She stared down at her hands. "That he's not really gone. That he's going to come back."

"You know he isn't," Jace said. "Magnus told us so. It's not possible."

"We didn't think killing him was possible either," said Clary. "We don't know for sure."

"I know there's no point in worrying about it," Jace said, rubbing her hand. "We can't live in fear our whole lives, Clary. Even if he comes back—which he won't—we'll get through it. Just like we did before. Okay?"

She nodded, still not quite meeting his gaze. Jace sighed and glanced out the window; it was an unusually sunny day for March, warm enough that the snow actually seemed to be melting on the side of the road.

"Wish I could be out there," Clary said wistfully, following his gaze.

"Who says you can't?" said Jace, with a sudden inspiration. "Let's go to Central Park. Have a picnic, watch the sunset..."

"Uh," Clary said, "not to actively work against my own interests here, but I think the Silent Brothers were pretty explicit that I'm not supposed to be moving around."

"You can lie down at the park," Jace said. "And the fresh air will be good for you. So what do you say? We can bring everyone along, too."

Clary smiled; it was the first genuine smile he'd seen on her in a while, and it lit up the room more than the sunlight streaming through the window. "Yeah," she said. "That sounds amazing."

He kissed her forehead. "Get dressed. I'll call everyone up."

* * *

"Okay, sandwiches—check. Fruit—check. Carrots and mustard—"

"Sorry, what?" Simon interrupted.

Jace shook his head. "I've learned not to argue with the pregnant woman," he said darkly. "Carrots and mustard—check."

"Wine, check?" Isabelle said hopefully. Jace frowned at her. "We're not all pregnant!" she said defensively.

"No wine," Jace said. Isabelle rolled her eyes and flopped back into her chair.

The three of them were sitting in the library, waiting on Alec and Clary; Magnus was staying with the kids, but he had told them to have fun. Jace shut the picnic basket and checked his watch. "Where is he?" he said.

Not a moment later, Alec walked in, dressed in gear and with a weapons belt strapped securely to his waist. "I'm here, I'm here," he said. "Sorry, it took me a while to get ready."

"I can see why," Jace said, looking him up and down. "You know this is a picnic, not a mission, right?"

Alec crossed his arms. "Jace, demons have been coming after you every chance they get. I'm not taking any chances, and I don't think you should either."

"Careful," said a voice from the doorway. "I think Jace's paranoia is rubbing off on you."

They all looked up. Clary stood there, regarding Alec with an amused expression. She was wearing an emerald green dress, cinched in under her breasts to accentuate her belly. Jace suspected she had chosen the dress very deliberately, knowing how much he liked her in green. It set off the sparkle in her eyes, contrasted the richness of her red hair, brought rosy color to her light skin.

"Oh, hi, Clary," Alec said. "You look very—um—"

"Walrus-like," Clary supplied, lowering herself into an armchair.

Alec turned red. "That's not what I was going to say!"

"Well, it's accurate," said Clary dryly. Jace chuckled.

"You're a very attractive walrus," he said, winking at her.

"Well, anyway," Alec said awkwardly, still pink around the ears. "You can call it paranoia if you want, but I still think it's a good idea to be prepared. We could be attacked at any moment."

"Way to bring the mood down," said Isabelle. Clary smiled, but it looked a little forced to Jace.

"We don't need any weapons," he said, fixing Alec with a pointed stare, "because nothing's going to happen. So we don't need to be worrying my very pregnant wife who's supposed to be relaxing and not stressing herself out, _right_?"

"Uh, right," Alec said, blinking in alarm.

"No, Alec has a point," Clary said. She glanced at Jace. "Never hurts to be armed, right?" she said with a wry smile.

"My thoughts exactly," said Alec, looking satisfied.

"Besides, if a demon tries to sabotage our picnic, I'll need a weapon to gut it myself," said Clary firmly. "This is my first time out in a month, and I'll be damned if it gets ruined because of—ouch!"

She nearly leapt out of her chair. One hand flew to her belly, the other wrapping tightly around the arm of the chair, nails digging in.

"What?" said Jace frantically. He was halfway across the room before he had even thought about moving. "What is it?" he said. "A contraction? Are you—"

"No, I'm fine," she said breathlessly, rubbing her belly. "He just—he _punched_ my _cervix!"_

"Your what?" said Alec, looking slightly disturbed.

Clary waved a hand impatiently, grimacing. "I don't know how to explain it, but I imagine it's like getting kicked in the balls," she said. The men simultaneously winced.

"Wow, he never gives you a break, does he?" said Jace, half amused and half relieved.

"I wonder where he gets it," said Clary dryly, shifting uncomfortably. "Ow, he really got me good."

"Are you sure it's not—"

"Jace," Clary said patiently, "it's not a contraction. And if we want to catch the sunset, we should probably get going."

Everyone made a noise of agreement and started to get up. Clary reached out to Jace, and he pulled her out of her chair. "I always get stuck in that one," she said ruefully. "But it's so _comfy_..."

Jace laughed as she began to waddle out of the room. "Nice walk," he teased her. "Very sexy."

She poked his shoulder. "First of all, I've been in bed for a month," she said sternly. "Second, the baby is literally in my pelvis, how am I supposed to walk?"

Jace raised his hands in surrender as they caught up with the others. Simon and Isabelle were both stocking weapons belts with swords, seraph blades, and daggers. Isabelle passed Jace a belt. "You want anything?" she asked Clary, holding up a fourth belt.

"I don't think I can do much fighting," she said, pointing at her huge belly. "But bring an extra seraph blade for me, I meant what I said about gutting that demon."

Jace chuckled, sliding a sword into his belt. "Nine months pregnant and still ready to decimate some demons," he said, kissing her cheek. "Has anyone ever told you how badass you are?"

"Once or twice," said Clary, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Portal or subway?" Alec asked, opening the doors.

"Cab," Jace said. "Clary can't Portal or walk to the subway."

"Well, I _can_," Clary interjected irritably, "I'm just not allowed to."

"Just for a little longer," Jace said, smiling. He held the door open as everyone filed out ahead of them. "Coming?"

"Yeah," she said. She started forward, then paused, wincing slightly as she put her hand to her belly.

"What?" said Jace. "Did he punch you again?"

"Mm. Yeah," said Clary, rubbing her belly. "I'm fine."

"Clary," said Jace warningly, but she shook her head, smiling at him.

"I'm fine," she said again, coming over to take his hand. "Come on, we're going to miss the sunset."

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, they had settled in the shade of a massive rock in the quiet corner of Central Park that only Shadowhunters and Downworlders could access. Jace smoothed out the blanket and helped Clary sit down. She leaned against the rock, sighing in relief. Her back was aching.

Jace opened up the picnic basket and began to pass food around. Isabelle plucked a sandwich out of his hands and plopped down next to Clary.

"I think he was handing that to me," Alec said annoyedly.

Isabelle shrugged and took a bite of the sandwich. Jace smiled exasperatedly and handed Alec another sandwich.

"This is nice," said Isabelle through her mouthful. "I don't think we've had a quiet moment in months."

"Don't jinx it," said Simon warningly. "Next thing you know, Clary will be going into labor as a horde of demons descends on us."

"I'm not going into labor," Clary assured him.

"And as for the horde of demons," Jace said, sitting down beside Clary and putting an arm around her, "I think we agreed that that was out of the question."

"Hey, did you bring me—" Clary broke off as Jace handed her a box of baby carrots and a small tub of mustard. "I love you. Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Are you talking to me or the food?" Jace asked, grinning at her.

"I choose not to answer that," said Clary in a dignified tone, opening the box. She dunked a carrot into the mustard and popped it into her mouth, moaning with delight. "I love you," she mumbled again.

"Okay, now you're definitely talking to the food," Jace said, laughing.

Clary leaned into him, chewing the carrot happily. The sun was setting, bathing them in golden light. She stared up at Jace, noticing how the sunlight turned his blonde hair to shining, almost metallic gold. She wished she had brought her colored pencils with her.

"Admiring the view?" Jace asked, noticing her gazing at him.

"Always," she replied, grinning.

"Ugh," Isabelle said, collapsing onto the blanket. "This is why I wanted wine. You two are so sappy."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Like you and Simon aren't the same way," she said.

"Hey," said Simon defensively, "if we're talking about sappy couples, I think Alec and Magnus should get the prize. I mean, Alec—Alec?"

They all glanced around. Alec was crouching on the rock, staring off into the distance with his brow furrowed.

"What's going on?" said Jace.

"Listen," Alec said quietly.

Clary listened. The park was completely silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in the wind.

"I don't hear anything," Simon said.

"Exactly," said Alec. "Where are all the animals? The birds?"

"It's almost nighttime," said Clary uncertainly.

"So where are the crickets?"

They all looked at each other. Clary felt her heartbeat begin to speed up. Jace seemed to sense her worry and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure it's nothing," he said calmly.

"Still," Alec said, sliding off the rock. "I'm going to go take a look around."

"I'll come with you," Jace said as he got to his feet. He looked down at Clary. "Stay here," he said.

"Not like I can move anyway," said Clary dryly, glancing down at her belly. Jace's lip quirked up and he smoothed her hair back before following Alec into the trees.

"Don't worry," Simon said. "Alec's just paranoid, like you said."

"I'm not worried," Clary lied, smiling at him.

"Well, if Alec's not eating his sandwich, I will," Isabelle said. Simon protested as she climbed over him to retrieve it from where Alec had set it down. Clary watched them bicker exasperatedly.

Then, suddenly, her stomach clenched painfully. Gasping, she put a hand to her belly, feeling it harden under her fingers.

"Clary?" Simon's face appeared in her vision. "Hey. You okay?"

She opened her mouth to say she was fine, no big deal, but what came out instead was a low moan as the pain intensified.

"Jace!" she heard Simon call distantly. "I think you should get over here!"

There was the sound of crunching grass, and then Jace was kneeling in front of her. "Clary, what's wrong?"

"I'm—I'm okay," Clary said, exhaling slowly as her belly loosened. "Just a contraction."

Jace's expression didn't change, but she saw his face whiten. "You had another one back at the Institute, didn't you?" he said, locking eyes with her. "And in the cab, when you were rubbing your back—"

"I'm fine," Clary insisted.

"_Clary_."

She sighed. "Okay, yes, I did. But—"

"How far apart are they?" Jace said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She bit her lip. "Maybe ten minutes?"

He nodded. He was still very pale, but he had a hard look in his eyes, his expression closed off. "Okay. I think we should get you back to the Institute."

"Oh, no, I don't want to ruin our picnic," Clary protested.

"We'll have another one," Jace promised. Clary sighed as he stood up and offered his hands to her. She let him pull her to her feet, and as he did his hands brushed against her belly. She caught them and held them there, and for an instant it was like the two of them were frozen in time, in a moment shimmering with the last rays of light as the sun sank below the horizon, casting an indigo sheen across the sky. They stood, hovering in the before: before they were parents, before their whole world changed, before—

The ground exploded.

Clary stumbled, falling against Jace. Swiftly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around, pulling her behind him and shielding her body with his as dirt flew ten feet into the air from a great rift that was opening in the earth, the ground shaking violently beneath their feet. The crack widened, growing to five feet, ten feet across—and then, suddenly, it stopped.

There was a moment where the air seemed to shiver; then demons began to pour out of the ground.

Jace drew his sword. "Go!" he shouted at Simon. "Get Clary out of here, go!"

"No!" Clary cried, seizing the back of his shirt, but Simon grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away. "Get off me, I'm _fine_, go help them!" she shouted at Simon. Alec had climbed onto the rock and was pulling Isabelle up; skeletal black figures streamed out of the gorge by dozens, surrounding the three of them—Alec and Isabelle had an advantage on the rock, but Jace was still there in the sea of demons, fighting his way toward the other two. _"Go help them!"_ Clary screamed at Simon.

"Duck!" he replied. She did, instinctively, and he swung his sword over her head; she heard the crunch of steel against bone that meant he had hit his mark. "Move!" he ordered her, pushing her ahead of him; the majority of the demons were occupied with Alec, Isabelle, and Jace, but some of them had branched off to pursue Simon and Clary. Clary staggered forward, wrapping her arms protectively around her belly as Simon pushed her further away from the battle.

Suddenly, Isabelle's scream tore through the air: _"JACE!"_

Clary whipped around in time to see Jace go down, demons piling on top of him. Alec and Isabelle slashed helplessly at them, but they were surrounded; the wave of demons began to recede back into the earth, dragging Jace with them. She saw him struggle in the melee, but there were too many of them.

"JACE!" Clary screamed. "_JACE!"_

She flung herself toward him—and Simon was there, wrapping his arms around her chest. She fought against him, but he held on tight. "LET ME GO!" she screamed. "I'M NOT LOSING HIM, _LET ME GO!"_

She watched as Jace disappeared into the ground.

Her heart stopped; her mind clouded over. She didn't think—she slammed her head back against Simon's, pain slicing across her _parabatai_ rune. He shouted out, his hold on her loosening just enough for her to break free.

She tore forward, staggering toward the crack in the ground; the demons, having seized their target, leapt back into the chasm as it began to close around them. Before she could second-guess herself, Clary jumped in after them.

"CLARY! _NO!"_

Simon's panicked yell was the last thing she heard—and then her vision went black.

* * *

**A/N: Only three chapters to go! If you liked this chapter (or want to murder me for that cliffhanger), please leave a review. Thanks for reading!**

**~4L**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"CLARY! _NO!"_

Simon lunged after Clary, his hands closing on air as her red hair disappeared into the gaping chasm. The crack closed; the ground stopped shaking; the park was silent.

"No—no—" Simon gasped. He dug his nails into the ground, clawing at the grass. "CLARY!" he shouted. "CLARY!"

Isabelle dropped down beside him. "Si," she said, putting her hand over his. "Simon. Stop."

"_No_," he said. "I had her—I was holding her, and then..." He curled his hands into fists and slammed them into the ground. _"CLARY!"_

Someone seized his left arm and hauled him to his feet; he fought against it for a moment before realizing it was Alec. "What are you—?"

Alec yanked Simon's sleeve up. "Look," he said, jabbing at Simon's forearm. Simon looked down at the black Mark, dizzying relief washing over him.

Alec unzipped the top of his gear jacket and pushed it aside, revealing the identical rune on his shoulder. "They're alive," he said sharply. "But we can't help them if we all fall to pieces. So pull it together."

Simon drew in a breath, his cantering heartbeat slowing. He nodded shakily.

"What do we do?" Isabelle whispered. Simon looked at her; she was trembling, her face white as a sheet.

"I..." The energy seemed to drain out of Alec. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking wan. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I think we should all split up and look around. See if we can find anything."

Isabelle nodded and walked toward the rock, while Alec split off toward the edge of the clearing. Simon knelt beside the jagged crack in the earth, which snaked thirty feet in either direction. He flattened himself onto his stomach, peering into the crevice. It was still open an inch, and if he squinted, he was certain he could see light at the very bottom, though it was fading with every moment.

"Found anything?" said Alec from above him.

Simon pushed himself up. "Kind of. I think I can see glowing at the bottom."

Alec nodded. "Clary and I saw something similar at that hotel a couple months ago."

"Did you find anything?" Simon asked. Alec shook his head as Isabelle came over.

"Nothing," she said.

"Great," Simon spat. "So back to square one."

Alec rubbed his forehead. "We should go back to the Institute," he said. "We'll call everyone. We'll figure this out."

Simon glanced back at the crevice, his stomach heavy. "Right."

* * *

"Oh my God," Jocelyn said faintly, sinking into a chair. "Oh my _God._ She went after him?"

Simon nodded tersely. They had just spent the last few minutes explaining to Magnus, Jocelyn, Luke, and Maryse what had happened. The library was dead silent; even Rafael and Max, playing in the corner, seemed to sense the tension in the room and went quiet.

"We'll find them," said Luke eventually. "Worse things have happened. If we can figure out where they went, we can—"

"_If_ we can find them," Magnus interrupted, "and that's a big 'if,' we still wouldn't be able to get them back. That glow Simon saw at the bottom of the crack was probably a Portal to a demon dimension. None of us can cross dimensions, last I checked."

"Even if we went back to the park?" Isabelle said. "If whoever took them could open a Portal there, why can't we do the same?"

"I don't think it works both ways," said Magnus. "And even if it did, we'd need an incredibly powerful Portal, and the only person I know who might be strong enough to make one went down into that chasm."

There was another taut silence.

"We have to do _something_," said Simon, his voice cracking.

"We can try," Maryse said. "Let's try to figure out where they went, at least. Maybe there's a way we can get them back."

"Maybe," said Magnus, but he looked unconvinced. Maryse went immediately to the other side of the room and started pulling books off shelves. Jocelyn, Luke and Magnus followed, but Alec lingered behind, staring down at his phone.

"Have you seen this?" he said, holding the phone out to Simon and Isabelle.

They looked. It was a video of a newscaster; the banner beneath her read, "FREAK EARTHQUAKE IN CENTRAL PARK BAFFLES SCIENTISTS." The reporter was mid-sentence.

"—say that around seven P.M. tonight, an earthquake occurred in Central Park. Scientists confirm seismic activity at the location, but no fault lines have been discovered as of—"

"Turn that off," said Maryse sharply, "and come over here."

She had laid out a world map on the table, weighing it down on each corner with books. "How is this supposed to help?" Simon said. "We know they're not on Earth."

"But if they come back, we'll know right away," Jocelyn said. "We need something to track them with—"

"Wait," Alec said, holding up his phone. "We need to call a Conclave. They need to know what's going on. And maybe they can help."

"I'll handle it," said Maryse briskly, striding over to the desk. "Jocelyn, Luke, come with me and help make these calls. The rest of you get started on those tracking spells, and start researching demon realms." She picked up the phone and started to dial, Jocelyn and Luke following. Simon blinked, a little taken aback at her efficiency.

"I'll go get something from their room to track them with," said Isabelle, and she headed out of the library.

"I can start setting up the tracking spell," said Alec, "and Simon, you should look for books on demon dimensions."

"I can help with that," Magnus said. He moved his hands through the air, a shimmering blue glow appearing around them. Then he clapped them together. There was a loud rumbling, and a single, slim book flew from the upper level and straight into Magnus's hands.

"You've got to be kidding me," Simon said. "Was that supposed to find all the books in this library about demon realms?"

"All the ones that explicitly mention them," said Magnus. "But it's not as if humans have traveled to many demon realms. As far as I know, we're some of the only people to have ever been to one and make it back alive." He set the book down on the table, looking grave. "I did say this was going to be difficult."

"So what?" Simon snapped. "Should we just sit around and twiddle our thumbs and hope they come back?"

"I'm just trying to be realistic—"

"Well, it's bullshit," Simon spat. "If someone could get through to our side, we can go the other way. And if I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't even care!"

"Stop yelling at my husband," said Alec quietly.

Simon set his jaw, glaring at Magnus, but Magnus only looked weary. He turned away, walking toward the corner where Max and Rafael were. They looked up as he approached.

"Daddy," Simon heard Max say, "why's everyone so mad?"

Magnus smoothed his son's hair. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

Simon clenched his jaw hard enough to make his head throb. He snatched the book off the table and read the title: _Daemonium Regna. _He flipped through it; it was hardly thicker than his thumb.

Isabelle came back in, holding a small notebook and a knife. "Clary's sketchbook," she said, holding them up, "and Jace's dagger."

Alec took them and pulled out his stele. "Thanks, Izzy." He began to ink runes for the tracking spell on the corner of the sketchbook.

"What's that?" said Isabelle, nodding at the book Simon was holding.

"The only book we could find on demon dimensions," he said.

Isabelle frowned. "What about _Paradise Lost_? Or the Bible?"

"We could try them," Alec said, setting the sketchbook down and picking up the dagger, "but they might not be as accurate."

"Still, it's something," said Isabelle.

Alec drew a final rune onto the map. There was a small swirl of air that flipped the sketchbook open, riffling its pages; then, nothing.

Simon stared at the map. "They're really gone."

"We'll find them," said Isabelle fiercely. Simon nodded numbly, but Alec said nothing; he was looking down at the sketchbook.

"By the Angel," he said, picking it up. He flipped through a few pages; they were covered with drawings of Beelzebub, from full-length sketches of his entire body to monstrous illustrations of his face. "They're so realistic," he said, his voice somewhere between awe and disturbance.

Isabelle shivered. "Her dreams must have been awful."

"They were," said Simon shortly. Isabelle glanced at him, but he turned away, holding out a hand to Alec. "Can I see it?"

Isabelle inhaled sharply. "Simon, your hands!"

"What about them?"

She took one of them and held it up; his nails were torn, caked with dirt and blood.

"Go clean yourself up," she said. "You'll get an infection."

"I'm fine," Simon said, reaching for the sketchbook again, but she pulled him back.

"Simon, go," she said firmly. He exhaled irritably and turned on his heel, striding out of the library.

In the bathroom, he flicked on the tap with much more force than necessary, causing water to spray everywhere. Cursing, he adjusted it and began to clean his hands, digging filth out from under his broken nails. They seared with pain, and fresh blood trickled into the sink, turning the water pink. He couldn't even remember how he had torn them.

As he dried his hands and pulled his stele out of his belt, his left forearm gave a small twinge of pain. He dropped the stele, seizing his arm immediately and peering at his _parabatai_ rune. The pain receded as quickly as it had come. Heart beating a little faster, he examined his rune for a long moment, but it remained solidly black. He exhaled, picked up his stele, and began to ink _iratzes_ onto his hands.

When he returned to the library, Maryse was gone and Jocelyn, Luke, Izzy, and Alec were sitting at the table, each poring over their own book. "Where's Magnus?" said Simon.

Alec glanced up, his expression stony. "The kids were getting antsy, so he took them home," he said. "He's going to look through his own books and see if he finds anything."

Simon felt a small stab of guilt. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Alec turned back to his book. "Tell him that."

Simon went over to the table and looked down at the map again; it was still normal, the runes on the sketchbook and dagger static. Simon picked up the sketchbook and flipped through it. First there were colorful illustrations of sunsets, trees in autumn, snow on buildings; then they grew fewer and fewer, eclipsed by rust-red landscapes, bloodied figures, and Beelzebub, Beelzebub, Beelzebub...

Simon swallowed and went to close the sketchbook; it felt a little like reading Clary's diary. But as his finger brushed over one of the landscapes, he paused. His finger was coated in red powder. For a moment, he thought it was residue from the colored pencils Clary had used, but as he brought his hand closer to his face, he could smell smoke and sulfur on his fingers. He touched the drawing again, picking up more of the dust on his fingertips. Then he noticed the runes inked at the bottom of the page.

"Hey," he said suddenly. The others jumped; he hadn't realized how quiet it had gotten. "Sorry," he said hurriedly, "but look at this." He held up his hand, then the drawing of the landscape. "I think this is real," he said. "I think she drew Beelzebub's realm and made it real, like with the Mortal Cup."

Jocelyn took the sketchbook out of his hands, tracing her fingers over the image. Then she reached _into_ the sketch, and when she withdrew her hand, her cupped palm held a small mound of powdery red dirt.

Instantly, the runes on the sketchbook and dagger flared golden, and the dust in Jocelyn's hand echoed the glow. Jocelyn dropped it in surprise, scattering dirt all over the table; the light went out as quickly as if someone had blown out a match.

"_Whoa_," Isabelle breathed.

"So that's where they are," Alec said. "They're in Beelzebub's realm."

"Okay," Luke exhaled. "That's a start. I think we should..."

But Simon was no longer listening. His forearm had started to prickle again with a dull pain. He rubbed it, frowning.

"What?" said Jocelyn, noticing. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Simon said.

"Tell me," Jocelyn demanded, her gaze piercing him.

"I don't _know_," said Simon sharply. "She fell through a Portal into a goddamn demon dimension, I don't know what the hell could have happened to her, all right?"

The room was silent.

"We have to find them," Simon said finally. "We have to."

* * *

It was a contraction that woke Clary; she jolted awake as her belly seized painfully, forcing a gasp out of her. She rode out the wave, whimpering as she curled in on herself. At last, the pain ebbed away. She sat up slowly, exhaling shakily. Then she opened her eyes.

Her stomach turned over.

It was as if she had fallen into one of her nightmares. The land around her was the color of rust, the ground barren and dusty. Behind her, a cliff stretched toward the sky; there were more rock formations strewn sporadically across the land, breaking up the monotony of the desert. She tasted sulfur and smoke, the air boiling hot and bone-dry. She struggled to draw breath as her muscles clenched, every part of her wanting to scream. And yet, somehow, she knew she wasn't dreaming. Her nightmares had become a reality.

She staggered to her feet, leaning against the cliff as her legs shook. "Jace," she whispered. "Jace?" She looked around—and there, a dozen feet away, was another figure, lying immobile on the ground.

She stumbled toward him, tripping over her feet in her panic. She fell to her knees beside him, turning him over; he was covered in the reddish dust, his hair thick with it. "Jace," she said, shaking him. "_Jace._ Wake up!"

He stirred; she sat back, relief flooding her as he cracked his eyes open. "Clary," he murmured.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He sat up so suddenly that she missed the movement; one moment he was on the ground, the next staring straight into her eyes. "What the hell," he said. "What the _hell_, Clary? What are you—why did you—" He seized her shoulders. "Are you insane?" he demanded. "Why the hell did you follow me?"

"I—" Her voice stuck in her throat. "I couldn't leave you," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking..."

He knotted his fingers into his hair. "_God_," he said. "I can't believe this. All the crap you gave me about not taking risks—"

"That's different, you would have done the same if I—"

"I'm not the one responsible for another life!" Jace exploded. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I said already, I _wasn't_ thinking!" Clary snapped. "I'm sorry, okay? I couldn't lose you, I just couldn't!"

"Well, well," said a smooth voice. "Isn't this exciting."

Jace moved in an instant, sliding in front of Clary and throwing his arms out to shield her. A demon had appeared behind them, leaning against the side of the cliff. He towered over them, twenty feet tall, human in everything but the black horns spiraling out of his head and his dark, sclera-less eyes. His skin was so pale it almost looked like ice, especially against his jet-black suit and close-cropped black hair. He gave them a smile that sent a shiver down Clary's spine.

"Jace Herondale," he drawled. "How I've longed to meet you. And I see you've brought someone special."

"Don't touch her," Jace spat.

"Now, why would I do that?" the demon purred. "I don't intend to hurt you. I just wanted to talk. Facilitate a little...negotiation, of sorts. You see, you have something I want."

"And what is that?" said Jace.

The demon spread his arms wide. "This," he said. "This realm. I want it."

"So take it," Jace said. "What does it have to do with me?"

"Well," said the demon, picking at his nails, "you see, this realm used to belong to a friend of mine."

"Beelzebub," Clary whispered.

The demon's gaze shot to her. "Clever girl," he said, tipping an imaginary hat to her. "Yes, Beelzebub ruled here once. But now he's gone. And he left his home here, abandoned, just _yearning_ for someone to seize it."

"Get to the point," Jace snapped.

The demon clicked his tongue. "So impatient," he said disapprovingly. "Though I expected you to be rash, given that you killed Beelzebub without a second thought."

"How did you—"

"I know, Jace Herondale," said the demon. "We were brothers once, he and I. Some bonds never break. I knew from the moment you trapped him that his hold on this place was diminishing. I just had to wait for the right moment."

"All those demons who came looking for the Pyxis. Looking for me," said Jace, with a voice of dawning comprehension. "_You_ sent them. You're their master."

The demon gave a little mock bow. "That I am."

"Who are you?" Jace demanded.

He straightened. "Leviathan," he said, smiling. "At your service. And now, I rather hope you'll return the courtesy." He folded his arms. "When you killed Beelzebub, you inherited his realm. All you have to do is say the word, and all of this will be yours."

"I don't want it," Jace said. "You can have it, just let us go."

Leviathan sighed. "If only it were that easy," he said. "Right now, this realm is in limbo; I am the only thing keeping it from crumbling entirely. Once you claim your power, you will gain control over it."

"And then what?" said Jace. "You just let us walk out of here?"

The demon laughed. "Then I kill you."

"Hard pass," Jace snapped.

"Oh," the demon said, looking disappointed. "I had hoped we could come to an agreement. But it seems we'll have to try another way."

Without warning, he slammed his fist into the cliff beside him. Rocks rained down on them; Clary covered her head with her arms, coughing as dust flew through the air. The ground rumbled beneath them. For a moment, Clary thought it was just from the cliff shaking, but it didn't stop. She glanced around; a cloud of dust was gathering in the distance, moving rapidly toward them. As it got closer, she could make out the forms of demons, hundreds of them stampeding across the land.

"You can stop them," Leviathan said. "All you have to do is give the command."

"Go to hell," Jace spat. "Your own, preferably."

The demon shrugged. "One way or another, I'll have this realm, Jace Herondale. You can't win this fight."

Before Jace could get in another word, Leviathan disappeared. The ground was shaking harder now as the horde of demons grew nearer. Jace hauled Clary to her feet, staggering as more rocks tumbled down around them. "Run!" he shouted at her.

She glanced around wildly, her brain struggling desperately to find a way out of this. She grasped for a memory—this was _his _realm, she'd been here before, there must be something—

The demons were almost upon them.

"GO!" Jace shouted, pushing her. "I'll hold them off, just go!"

Inspiration struck her. She snatched his stele out of his belt and ran to the cliff face, nearly slamming into it. She began to scrawl runes into the rock. _Work, please work!_

Demons screeched behind her; she looked over her shoulder as Jace drew his sword. _Come on_, she thought, carving lines into the rock.

"Clary!" Jace cried. "Run!"

The Portal blazed to life in front of her. She thrust her hand into it, concentrating hard. "COME ON!" she screamed at Jace.

He ran backward, swinging out with his sword as demons streamed after him. His free hand closed on her wrist as he jumped into the Portal, yanking her in after him. They tumbled into the darkness together.

* * *

Jace fell out of the Portal, staggering slightly as he tried to catch his balance. A split second later, Clary toppled out after him; he caught her and set her on her feet, taking the stele out of her hand and shoving her forward into the cave that loomed in front of them. As soon as she was inside, he knelt and began carving runes into the floor.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said as he gouged Protection, Glamour, and Deflection runes into the rock. "I don't know how you thought of this, but you're incredible." She made an assenting noise behind him. "I don't know how long these will last," he added, tucking his stele back into his belt and examining his handiwork. "Runes faded more quickly in Edom, but I don't know if it's the same here. We'll probably have to keep checking on them. Although I don't know if we should stay here long, I think it's best to keep moving. What do you think? Clary?"

There was no response; Jace turned to see Clary leaning against the cave wall, one hand braced against the rock and the other arm wrapped around her belly. Her eyes had gone very wide.

"Clary?" said Jace uncertainly, taking a step toward her. "What's wrong?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Jace crossed the distance between them. "Are you hurt?" he said in an undertone. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

She shook her head, drawing in a shuddering breath. "My—my water broke," she whispered.

Time seemed to freeze around him. He could only stare at her; her eyes were shimmering with tears, her face white, her fingers twisted into the fabric around her belly.

"Oh," said Jace finally, his voice cracking. "Oh, _fuck_."

It might have been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. Clary let out a soft sob, wrapping her arms around herself. "What are we going to do?" she whispered.

"Well," Jace said in a strangled voice. "I think we're having a baby."

"_No_," said Clary forcefully. "I can't—not here, not alone—" She wrapped her arms more tightly around her belly, as if she were trying to hold herself together. "Jace, I can't..."

"Okay," said Jace, trying to wrap his brain around the fact that they were trapped in a demon realm and Clary was in labor and there was nothing they could do about it. "Okay, okay, I know this is terrifying, but we just—we don't have a choice here. So we have to keep it together, okay?" Clary shook her head vehemently. "Hey. Look at me." Her eyes met his. "It's going to be okay."

"I—" Clary cut herself off with a soft gasp, curling her hands into fists against her belly. "Oh, God..."

"Contraction?" She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. "Just breathe. It's okay."

"No, no, no, _no_..." She was sobbing now, tears streaming unchecked down her face. "I can't, I can't do this—_oh—_"

"Yes, you can," said Jace sharply, grabbing her hands. "You can do this, Clary. Breathe." She drew in a shuddering breath. "That's it. You can do it. You've got this." He squeezed her hands. "Hey. We've faced down countless dark forces. Having a baby? That's nothing."

She gave a watery chuckle, opening her eyes. "Okay," she said, exhaling slowly. In her eyes, he saw the warrior in her rise to the surface, taking charge of the most impossible situation and fighting her way through. "Okay," she said again more firmly as she looked at him. "We're having a baby."

Jace reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "We're having a baby," he agreed.

He brought his lips down to hers, tasting metallic fear and a spark of courage.

* * *

**A/N: It's about to go down. Two chapters left.**

**If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review. Thanks so much for reading!**

**~4L**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"Breathe. You're doing great. Just keep breathing. In, out, in—"

"Jace," said Clary through gritted teeth, _"I know how to breathe."_

They were walking slowly around the cave, Clary leaning on Jace's arm. She stopped suddenly, her body tensing. "Contraction."

"You're doing great," Jace said. "Just br—"

"Shut—up," Clary gasped. Jace clamped his mouth shut. Clary shook him off and pressed both palms into the wall, rocking back and forth as she moaned softly.

"Are you okay?" said Jace tentatively after a long moment.

She grunted. "I need—_mendelin_...and Endurance..."

Jace hastily drew his stele, unzipped her dress, and inked both runes at the small of her back. "Is that better?" he asked, zipping her back up.

She nodded tightly, exhaling. "Okay, it's over."

Jace checked his watch. "Forty-five seconds." She nodded, rubbing her arms; she was shivering, her teeth chattering softly. Jace slid his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pulled it tightly around her.

"Thanks," she said feebly.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" said Jace.

She shook her head. "I need to walk."

"Okay," said Jace uncertainly, "but you're still kind of supposed to be on bed rest..."

"I don't think it matters at this point," Clary said shortly. "And if I sit down, it's going to hurt even more, so I need to walk, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry."

She sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I'm being an ass, aren't I?"

Jace kissed her forehead. "Until you have the baby, you're allowed to be as much of an ass to me as you want."

"And after I have the baby?"

"Then the baby gets to be an ass to both of us."

Clary laughed. She slid her arm through his and began to walk again. They approached the mouth of the cave; Jace bent to carve the protection runes into the rock again. Then he made to turn back around, but Clary lingered, staring out into the desert. On the horizon, the black cloud of demons swarmed and swirled, shrieking distantly.

"Come on," Jace said, guiding her back into the cave.

"Jace," she said as they began to walk the other way. "What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry about that right now," said Jace soothingly. "You just concentrate on having this baby."

"We need a plan," she said baldly. "We can't stay in here forever. Sooner or later, they'll find us. Or the demon will draw us out."

Jace chewed his lip. "We could find another cave," he said eventually.

"I don't know if there are any others," Clary said, "or if we could even Portal there when we haven't seen them before."

"Well, how did you Portal us here? Could you see it from where we were?"

"I've..." She swallowed. "I've been here before. In one of my dreams. I took a chance on it being real."

Jace rubbed her hand. "Clary..."

She shook her head. "I don't think finding another cave will work. And even if it does, what then? How long can we keep running?"

He looked at her for a long moment, but let it drop. "We have to find a way back home," he said. "Maybe there are clues back where we came through. There has to be some sort of connection to our world, if he could keep sending demons through so easily. I think as soon as you have the baby, we should go back there."

Clary nodded, though she didn't look particularly comforted by the idea. "Clary," said Jace softly. "Are you doing okay?"

She was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, she said, "I don't like being here. And I don't want to have the baby here."

"Here, as in, in this cave...?"

"_Here_," she said, her voice shaking. Her eyes were shimmering. "This place. I can't..."

"I know," Jace said gently. "I can't imagine how horrible it must be to be back here."

"Except I was never here," Clary said. "Not really. But now I am and I can't—I can't escape. I can't wake up." She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "I always had that, you know? Even in my worst dreams, I knew I could wake myself up, and I'd be home, and none of it was real." She looked up at him; a tear slid down her cheek. "I wish this was a nightmare."

Jace wiped the tear away. "It's not a nightmare," he said. "I know the circumstances aren't ideal, but just think, Clary. In a few hours, we'll have a baby. We'll finally get to meet him."

She gave a watery smile and ran her hand across her belly. They continued to walk; the cave was no more than fifty feet in diameter, and soon they were approaching the mouth of the cave again. Then, suddenly, Clary inhaled sharply. "Contraction."

"Already?" Jace checked his watch; it had only been five minutes. "Are you s—"

She gave a moan and clutched at his bare arms, her nails digging in. Jace squeaked.

"Clary," he said, his voice slightly strained, "could you squeeze my hands instead of my arms, please?"

She spat out a long string of epithets detailing exactly which parts of his body she could squeeze instead. He gulped.

"Arms are fine," he said, nodding vigorously. "Arms are great, in fact. Please keep squeezing my arms."

She exhaled, releasing him. He rubbed his arms surreptitiously as she slumped against the wall, panting. "How long..."

He glanced at his watch again. "Fifty seconds. You're doing great."

"If you tell me I'm doing great _one more time—_"

"You're doing awesome?" Jace suggested. Clary sighed and let her head fall back against the wall.

* * *

"This book is useless," Simon spat, throwing it down onto the table. "All I found was this, listen—" He picked up the scrap of paper on which he had copied and translated a passage from the book Magnus had found. "'Of the demon realm of Baratrum, little is known. The Prince Beelzebub is thought to reside there, fettered and unable to escape into our world.' Real _freaking_ helpful." He shoved the book so hard that it toppled over the edge of the table, hitting the floor with a puff of dust.

"We know it's called Baratrum," said Jocelyn wearily. "That's somewhere to start, at least."

"Yeah, great, now we can start searching for one word in all these books," said Simon acidly.

Isabelle sighed. "Simon," she said. "We know you're upset. But can you _please_ stop taking it out on all of us?"

Simon glared at her, but before he could reply, Alec stood, massaging his neck. "Where are you going?" Simon asked.

"I'm going to get us some food," he said. "There's a pizza place a couple blocks from here, it should still be open."

"How can you be thinking about eating right now?" Simon demanded.

"I'm just saying, we can't keep working without—"

"And _I'm_ just saying we don't have time for this!"

"Enough!" Luke snapped. "Simon, take a walk."

"But—"

"_Go_," said Luke. "You clearly need some time to cool off, and frankly, we could all use a break from you."

Simon clenched his jaw so hard that he heard a cracking noise from his back teeth. He shoved his chair back from the table and stormed out of the library.

He walked aimlessly for a few minutes, turning deeper into the Institute. Moonlight turned the hallway gray, washing out the color in the tapestries that hung along the wall. As he passed the Sanctuary, he could hear raised voices; he listened for a moment, but couldn't make out any individual words. He hoped Maryse was having some luck with the Clave, but by the tone of their voices, he wasn't optimistic. Dropping his head, he turned and went back the way he had come.

Finally, he arrived back at the library. Isabelle looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I would like to apologize," he said stiffly.

"Apology accepted," said Isabelle, though the others didn't look quite as tolerant. Alec's chair was empty; Simon felt a little guilty, especially because, though he would never say it out loud, he was actually rather hungry. "We were going to start looking for more books, if you want to help," Izzy said. Simon nodded and followed her, Luke, and Jocelyn over to the stacks. They all branched off; Simon went into an aisle and began to scan the titles of books.

"Simon," Isabelle said softly. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, pulling a thick tome off the shelf. He examined it for a moment before putting it back.

"Simon," said Isabelle again. "Will you please talk to me?"

"I'm fine, Izzy," Simon said, moving past her. She caught his arm and turned him gently toward her; he gazed into her eyes. He sighed. "All right, I'm not fine. I'm freaking out." He leaned back against the shelf. "I just want them back."

"We all do," said Izzy gently. "You know we do. But we have to work together. You can't keep shouting at everyone."

"I know." He passed a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are." She wrapped her arms around him, brushing her lips softly against his. He closed his eyes, wanting to fall into her, to forget that anything was happening.

Then his arm spasmed. He pulled back, wincing.

"What?" Isabelle said. "What's going on?"

He rubbed his arm. "I think something's wrong," he said in an undertone.

Isabelle paled. "What do you mean?"

"She's in pain," he said, "but it feels...weird."

"Weird how?"

"It keeps coming and going," Simon said. "And it's getting worse..."

There was a loud _thud_. Simon glanced around; Jocelyn had dropped a book, but she made no move to pick it up. She was staring at Simon, her face white. Luke looked at her, confused.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "She's in labor."

Simon stared at her for a long moment. Then a laugh bubbled up from his throat. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, she's not. Because if she was in labor, that would mean she would have to give birth by herself, with no Silent Brothers or anyone to help her, in a demon realm where we can't get to her if something goes wrong—"

"Simon," said Isabelle, catching at him. He was trembling, his legs barely supporting him. He slid down the bookshelf, digging his nails into his arm as he struggled to breathe.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Jocelyn said. "Unless she got hurt—"

"No, I think you might be right," Isabelle said. "She was having contractions at the park, remember, Simon?"

"What?" Jocelyn said sharply. "And you didn't think to mention that earlier?"

"I..."

The doors to the library opened and Maryse strode in. "I just wrapped up with the Clave," she said, "but they..." She trailed off, glancing at each of them. "What's going on?"

"Clary's in labor," Jocelyn said without preamble.

Maryse gaped at her. "How do you know?"

Jocelyn pointed at Simon. Maryse's gaze locked on his; in an instant, she was beside him, hauling him to his feet.

"Mom!" Isabelle said in shock, but Maryse only had eyes for Simon.

"Show me," she demanded. Wordlessly, Simon pulled up his sleeve. Maryse examined his _parabatai_ rune; it was still normal, but his arm was aching. "You keep an eye on that," she said. "If anything changes, I want to know. And start timing the pain, we need to know exactly how far along she is and—"

"But what are we going to do?" Luke interjected. "If she's really in labor, there's no way she'll be able to go through a Portal, even if we somehow manage to make one."

"We'll have to wait until she's had the baby before we can do anything," said Maryse. "And then we'll need to be ready."

"We can't wait that long!" Jocelyn said. "Simon's right, she needs a Silent Brother—"

"If we try to bring her through too early, she could lose the baby," Maryse said.

"If we don't, she could _die!"_

"Stop it!" Simon snapped. He was shaking again. "You're talking about something that's not even possible! How about we figure out how to get her back first, and then start worrying about when to do it, okay?" He turned to Maryse. "What did the Clave say?"

She ran her hands through her graying hair. "Nothing useful," she said. "They think we shouldn't even be trying to get them back."

"What?" Jocelyn said. "Why not?"

"Because they think opening a Portal to a demon realm is a bad idea," Maryse said, "and I'd be inclined to agree with them if it weren't our family down there." She looked around at them. "We're on our own."

All of their eyes were on Maryse, but it was Isabelle who spoke. "Well," she said briskly, "that's never stopped us before." She slid her hand into Simon's. "Let's get back to work."

* * *

It was well into the night; at least, Jace thought it must be. His watch read half past two in the morning, but the sky outside hadn't changed. It was still blood-red, filled with sulfurous smoke. He could hear the demons screeching faintly...though not as faintly as they had been a few hours ago.

"They're getting closer, aren't they?" Clary said, catching his gaze as he turned her back around. They were still walking around the cave, albeit much more slowly.

Jace glanced at his watch. "You're still about three minutes apart—"

"Not the contractions," said Clary. "The demons."

Jace sighed. "Don't worry about it, okay? They don't know where we are."

Clary's grip on his arm tightened. He rubbed her hand soothingly as he checked his watch again to start timing the contraction. But something was different about this one; she doubled over, her legs shaking as a small whimper escaped her.

"Do you need to sit down?" Jace asked. She nodded, her knees buckling. "Okay, it's okay, I've got you..." He lowered her carefully to the ground, and she curled up on her side, trembling. "Let it out, Clary," he said, rubbing her back. She gave a strangled moan, though Jace could tell she was still holding back. "Breathe..." Her whole body was tensed up, her muscles rock-hard.

At last, she relaxed. "Ouch," she mumbled.

He helped her sit up. "Are you okay?" he said. "Do you want to keep walking?"

"I don't...think I can anymore."

She laid her head on his shoulder, breathing heavily. "Come here," he said, moving closer to the wall. He pulled her back so she was sitting between his legs, her head against his chest. He sat upright against the wall, supporting her. "Is this better?"

"Yeah...feels good..." She shifted. "Can you—?"

He was already massaging her lower back. She exhaled, relaxing into him. "Thanks," she said.

He kissed the top of her head. She stroked her belly lightly. "Can I?" Jace asked, reaching his hand out. She nodded, and he set it on her stomach, feeling the baby shift inside her. "Doesn't look like this is bothering him at all, does it?" he said, smiling.

She grimaced. "He's still kicking my ribs. I don't know how he even has the room."

Jace laughed. "Stubborn as always," he said. "We're going to have our work cut out for us, aren't we?"

Clary hummed in assent, running her hands across her belly again. Jace went back to massaging her back, but he was watching her face; she looked exhausted, her hair damp with sweat and her face wan. "Do you want another Endurance rune?" he asked.

"The last one's still there," Clary said wearily. "All the Endurance runes in the world wouldn't be enough to get through this."

"Clary," Jace said softly, but then her body tensed against him. "Another one?" he asked.

"Jace," said Clary in a tight voice, "go put a silencing rune at the entrance."

He glanced at her; her lips were pressed tightly together, her face taut with pain. Without arguing or asking for clarification, he extricated himself from behind her and strode over to the mouth of the cave. Quickly whipping his stele out of his belt, he carved a silencing rune into the rock beside the protection runes. "Okay," he said, straightening. "It's—"

A scream exploded through the cave, crashing around Jace's ears. He spun around; Clary's whole body curved in around her belly, her nails digging into the fabric of her dress as she screamed. After a long moment, she gasped for breath, her body trembling as she pushed herself back up to sitting.

"Wow," said Jace, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. Her scream was still ringing in his ears. "How long have you been holding that in?"

"A while," she said in a small voice. He took up his position behind her, and she leaned into him. "That was a really bad one," she whispered.

He stroked her hair. "You're amazing, you know that? You are so strong."

There was a long silence. Finally, she said softly, "Jace, if something goes wrong—"

"No," he said firmly, cutting her off. "We're not having this discussion. You're going to be fine, Clary."

"You don't know that," said Clary, sounding weary.

He shook his head. "Women give birth every day," he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. "Your body was literally made to do this. You'll be _fine_."

"And women die in childbirth every day," Clary said sharply. "It's not that easy." She swallowed, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded tight. "I'm three weeks early and I've already had complications. We have to—to entertain the possibility." She turned to look at him. "If something goes wrong, you have to promise me you'll save the baby before me."

He searched her eyes. "Clary..."

"_Promise me_," she said fiercely, gripping his hand.

"I..." He looked away. "Okay," he said softly. "I promise. But it's not going to happen, Clary. You're going to be fine. Both of you."

She closed her eyes, putting her back to him again.

* * *

They didn't sleep; after eating hastily, they went straight back to work, scouring the library for every book that even mentioned Baratrum. They had even examined the dust from Clary's sketchbook, but above all else, it was still just part of a drawing—real enough to touch, but not actually a Portal to the other world. Several hours later, sunlight was beginning to straggle through the window, the stacks of books on the table had grown to alarming heights, and they were no closer to an answer than they had been before.

Simon grit his teeth, massaging his forearm as it seized with pain. He drew in a breath, waiting for the pain to ebb before he closed his book and tossed it onto the nearest pile; it wobbled precariously. Maryse glanced over at him, searching his face.

"Time," she said.

He shook his head; he had forgotten to check. Maryse pursed her lips and turned back to the scroll she was deciphering. Beside Simon, Alec closed his own book.

"I think I'm going to go back home," he said, his voice hoarse. "The kids will be up soon. And maybe I can help Magnus find something."

The others nodded, too tired to speak. Alec stood and stumbled out of the room, pulling out his stele; Simon knew it was to give himself Wakefulness runes. Simon took out his own stele and inked the rune in the crook of his elbow. He felt his energy boost slightly as the rune sank in.

Wordlessly, Isabelle reached for the stele. Simon handed it to her, and she carved the same rune into her wrist. "We have to sleep eventually," she said in a raspy voice.

"We'll sleep when they're back," Simon said decisively. He stood up and moved toward the door. "I'm going to make some coffee. Does anyone want—Jesus _Christ._" He doubled over, clutching his arm.

"Oh, Simon..." Isabelle hurried around the table and put her arm around him, guiding him back. "Come here, sit down..."

"God," he gasped, his eyes streaming as she lowered him onto the couch. "I don't know how she's doing this. If it hurts this much for me..."

"I'm sure she's holding up," Izzy said soothingly. "She's strong."

Simon squeezed his arm. "By the Angel, Izzy, I'm so sorry I ever asked you to go through this."

"What?" said Maryse, looking up from the table, but Isabelle waved her down, focusing on Simon. The pain was lessening; he let out his breath in a rush. "How close are they?" Maryse asked.

"I don't know," Simon said. "Close."

She frowned at him. "You're supposed to be timing them!"

"I forgot, okay?" Simon snapped. "It's not exactly easy. You should know!"

Jocelyn chuckled suddenly. All their gazes went to her. "Sorry," she said, smiling. "I just wish all men had a female _parabatai_ so they could understand what we go through."

"Yeah, it sucks," said Simon fervently. "I take back everything I've ever said about pregnancy. It's awful."

"Not all of it," Jocelyn said. "You've only felt the worst parts..." She trailed off, sobering. "If she's getting close, we need to hurry."

Simon nodded and stood back up, swaying slightly; Isabelle pushed him back onto the couch.

"Not you," she said. "You stay here, and for the Angel's sake, _please_ try to time them before my mom strangles you."

"I can help—"

"You are helping," Izzy said. She leaned in. "And by the way," she added in an undertone, "I love you very much. But I'm a little glad you're going through this. Just a little."

"I suppose I deserve that," Simon mumbled. Isabelle kissed his cheek and went back to the table as Simon rubbed his _parabatai_ rune, staring at his watch.

* * *

Clary screamed, squeezing Jace's hands so tightly that he began to lose feeling in the tips of his fingers. He tried to look at his watch, but it didn't really matter now; the contractions were so close together that trying to time them was pointless. After a long minute, Clary fell back against him, sobbing. Jace pulled her damp hair away from her neck, wiping her sweat away.

"Jace," she whimpered.

"Shh," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You're okay. You're so close, Clary."

"I can't...it hurts..."

"I know," he said. "But you're almost there. Just a little longer. And then we'll finally get to meet him. We'll get to hold him..." She whimpered again, her breath hitching. "Hey," he said softly. "What color do you think his eyes will be?"

She exhaled shakily. "I hope they're gold," she whispered. "Like yours."

Jace tilted her head toward his, smiling. "Funny," he said. "I was hoping they'd be green."

Clary looked like she was going to smile, but then her face contorted. She seized his hands again. "I think—" She gasped. "Oh, God. I think I have to push."

"Okay," Jace said, his heart fluttering nervously. "Okay, Clary. This is it."

She squeezed his hands and screamed—and from outside the cave, there was an answering roar. Jace whipped around to look; the runes at the mouth of the cave flared.

He hastily got to his feet, leaning Clary back against the wall, and dashed to the opening; the protection runes had faded to white, and the mass of demons was no longer swarming aimlessly on the horizon. It was now heading straight for them.

Jace swore and ran back to Clary; she was gasping for breath, sweat pouring down her face. "We have to move," he said, grabbing her arm. "The runes—they're gone. The demons found us." He tried to pull her to her feet, but she cried out, sinking back to the ground. He crouched beside her. "Clary," he said sharply. "We have to go. Can you walk?"

She shook her head, her lower lip trembling. He made a split-second decision and scooped her up into his arms, staggering slightly under her weight. "I'm just going to move you farther in, okay?" he said, panting. "Just so they can't—"

"_No!"_ she screamed, digging her nails into his shoulder. "Jace, put me down! _Put me down!_"

"Okay..." He lowered her back to the ground, and she curled in on herself, sobbing. He stroked her hair. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Clary..." He wiped her tears away; she was shaking. He took her hand and squeezed it, thinking hard. Through the mouth of the cave, he could see the demons getting closer.

He knew what he had to do.

He turned back to Clary, steeling himself. "Listen to me," he said. "This is what you're going to do. As soon as you have the baby, you need to get out of here."

"Wait," Clary said, but he kept talking over her.

"Get yourself back to where we came through, no one will be there now. Then you need to—"

"Wait," said Clary sharply. "Why are you talking like you're not coming with me?"

He swallowed. "I'm not. I'm going out there to fight the demons."

All the blood drained from her face. She pushed herself up to sitting, her limbs trembling. "No—_no_," she gasped. "They'll kill you!"

"If I stay here, they'll kill all of us!" Jace burst out. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm. "At least this way I can buy you some time," he said, his voice shaking. "Give you and the baby a fighting chance."

"_No_," she said again. He tried to stand up, but she seized the front of his shirt. "You can't," she whispered. _"I_ _can't do this alone._"

"Of course you can," he said softly. He tucked her hair behind her ear. "You're the strongest person I know," he said. "You can do this." He pulled his stele and a seraph blade out of his belt and pressed them into her hands. "Just in case you need to gut a demon," he said, but the tremor in his voice drowned out the humor.

"Don't," she sobbed. "Don't go, _please_ don't go..."

He kissed her; she tasted of salt—sweat and tears. "I love you," he whispered. He put his hand on her belly. "Tell him—" His voice caught in his throat. "Tell him I love him, okay?"

He stood; Clary scrabbled at him, but he moved out of her reach. "Come back!" she screamed at him. "_Come back here!"_

He swallowed again and drew his sword. Outside, dust exploded into the air as demons tore across the land.

"YOU PROMISED!" Clary screamed. "YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T LEAVE! JACE!_ JACE!_"

He walked away from her. It felt as if someone had driven hooks into his heart and were trying to tear it out of his chest. And as he stepped through the mouth of the cave, Clary gave a terrible, shattered scream behind him—and he knew he would never forget that sound as long as he lived.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Well, here we are. I'll save the long, sappy author's note for the end, but for now, let me just say: thank you. And without further ado, the finale of _City of Smoke and Dust._**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_This chapter contains a graphic description of birth. Reader discretion is advised._

"JACE! _COME BACK!_ Jace, please, _please_—"

Clary sobbed, clutching her belly as a contraction hit her with the force of a tidal wave, accompanied by a terrifying pressure around her hips. A scream tore through her throat. There was a sort of electricity thrumming through her veins; her hands were shaking so hard that they were sending tremors up her arms.

_"Jace,"_ she cried, and when the next contraction hit, she collapsed, her fingers clawing uselessly at the ground. And as she lay there, curled up on her side, in so much pain that she was nearly blind, she knew she was going to die.

She was aware that she was screaming, but the sound was muffled, as if she were deep underwater. Pain enveloped her, and she felt herself sinking—she wanted it to end, she wanted to be with Jace...

_I'm not strong enough_, she thought.

But even as the words formed in her mind, another, sharper voice eclipsed them: _You're the strongest person I know. You can do this._

_I can't..._

She closed her eyes and waited for the end to come. But as if by its own volition, her arm moved, wrapping protectively around her stomach.

_He needs me_. The thought was like a bell ringing clearly in her mind. _He has to live._

Her bones turned to steel; her mind cleared like wind blowing away smoke. She forced herself to sit up, drawing in a shuddering breath. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she paid them no attention. There was nothing else that mattered, nothing but giving life to the child inside her.

A contraction built within her, and there again was that pressure; as it intensified, every thought left her mind but one: _push._

She pressed her back into the wall, drew her knees up to her chest, and pushed. A guttural scream ripped through her. Something shifted inside her; she put a shaking hand between her legs, reached up inside herself, and felt the baby's head.

"Oh God," she whispered. "Oh God, this is really happening..."

There was no time to dwell on the thought. Another contraction slammed into her, and she pushed. Time seemed to flow around her; she didn't know if it had been seconds, or minutes, or hours. All she could do was breathe, and push.

Then several things happened at once: as Clary gave a gargantuan push, the cave seemed to disappear before her, her vision obscured by a single, shining rune; there was a horrible, tearing pain inside her that ripped the air from her lungs—and then, with a heavy gush of blood that made her head grow light, something slid into her hands.

For a moment, there was only silence; then there was the tiniest cough, and at last cries filled the cavern, echoing like music off the stone walls.

Tears sprang to her eyes as Clary brought the baby up onto her chest with trembling hands. The baby wailed, squirming against Clary, and then Clary was crying too.

"Hi, baby," she whispered, kissing her child's head. Tears streamed down her face. "I love you. God, I love you so much."

The baby quieted after a moment; Clary shifted, turning him over to more comfortably cradle him—except—

"Oh!" she gasped. "You're not a boy. You are _definitely_ not a boy." The baby gurgled, waving her fat little arms. Clary caught one of them, the tiny fingers of her daughter wrapping around her own index finger. There was a small, star-shaped mark on the inside of her wrist, identical to the one on both Clary and Jace's shoulders. "Hi, there," Clary whispered, giving a watery smile. "I'm sorry I thought you were a boy."

The baby opened her eyes, squinting up at Clary, and Clary's breath hitched. They were pure, shining gold.

Clary stared down at her daughter's face, trying to memorize every feature. She wished time would stop, so she could live in this moment forever, the baby gazing up at her with those beautiful golden eyes.

Then, suddenly, there was a cry from outside. Clary's head snapped up; outside the cave, she could hear the squelch of demons dying, but there was something else, a familiar grunting...

She looked down at the baby; her resolve hardened. Carefully, she shifted the baby to one arm and picked up the seraph blade Jace had given her. The name was on her lips before she had even thought it.

"_Ithuriel_," she whispered.

The blade came to life. Clary brought it down, shearing through the umbilical cord. Then she set the blade down and pulled Jace's jacket off her shoulders, wrapping the baby carefully in it.

"Shh," she said softly as the baby began to squall again. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

She picked up the seraph blade and Jace's stele and braced herself. Then she pushed herself to her feet.

Pain sliced through her, and she nearly fell to her knees; it took all her strength to remain standing. Blood gushed between her legs, spilling down the length of the dangling umbilical cord and splashing onto the floor. The hem of her dress felt heavy. Was this much bleeding normal?

She pushed the thought aside and took a step toward the mouth of the cave. Her legs shook; it felt as if she were being torn in half. She grit her teeth and took another step, then another one.

At last, she arrived at the entrance. Sweat poured down her back, and she leaned heavily against the edge of the cave, gasping for breath.

Outside, the cliffside was a graveyard. There were patches of ichor where demons had died and returned to their home dimension, but for the demons who had lived here, their carcasses were strewn across the land, split open and rotting. Clary fought back the urge to vomit. She cast her gaze around—there, his back pressed against the cliff, was Jace. One of his arms was wrapped around his ribcage; as he swung out at a flying demon with his sword, Clary saw blood gush between his fingers.

The demons were dwindling; Jace killed one, then another. But as he drove his sword up through one demon's throat, something huge swooped down from the sky. Jace cried out as it slammed into him; he hit the wall, slumped to the ground, and was still.

For a moment, Clary forgot how to breathe. Her arm moved automatically; she flung the seraph blade. The demon went down, screeching as it toppled over the edge of the cliff.

Clary wasted no time. She stumbled forward, almost slipping on her own blood. Painstakingly, she made her way to Jace, collapsing beside him.

"Jace," she whispered.

He coughed, opening his eyes. Blood trickled down his temple. "Clary," he choked. "It's...not...over..."

"They're gone," Clary said. "You killed them all, Jace."

"No—there's...more..."

She looked around; her stomach sank. He was right. In the distance, another black cloud was gathering. Clary seized his stele and began to draw runes around them.

"What..."

"Shh," Clary said, linking the runes together with a line to form a semicircle. A protective barrier rose up, shimmering around them.

"Clary...go..."

She ignored him and began to trace _iratze_ runes onto his body. He inhaled as the runes sank in. "Better?"

He nodded, sitting up slowly. "You're incredible," he breathed. "How did you..."

She smiled softly. "I couldn't let you die before you met your daughter."

"Wha—it's a girl?"

"Well," Clary said, "if it's not, I think some pretty important genitalia got left behind in the womb." Jace gave a huff of laughter. "Do you want to see her?"

He nodded. Clary shifted closer to him, cradling the baby. She was dozing; Jace gazed down at her in wonder.

"She has your eyes," Clary said softly.

Jace's eyes were shining. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Clary's lips. She breathed into him.

"Clary," he murmured. "You have to go. They're coming."

"I'm not leaving without you," she said.

"You have to." He shifted, wincing. "I'll only slow you down."

"Then I'll keep healing you," said Clary fiercely. "I won't leave you, Jace."

"Clary—"

"Aw. How touching."

Clary whirled around. Leviathan stood there, smiling down at them. "So lovely to see such devotion in a wife." His gaze flicked downward. "And a mother."

Clary's breath hitched; she pulled the baby in against her, gripping her tightly. The demon laughed.

"You needn't be so afraid," he said. "I want nothing to do with your little whelp. I've come to get my due." He looked at Jace. "Well? Had enough yet? Or shall I summon those demons here?" He smiled down at Clary. "Perhaps this time, I'll tell them to go after your wife."

"No," Jace snarled.

"Then give me what I want," Leviathan said.

Jace swallowed. "If I do," he said, his voice shaking slightly, "will you send Clary and the baby home?"

"No," Clary said vehemently, but he ignored her, staring up at the demon.

"I will," Leviathan said, smiling. "You have my word."

"_No_," Clary said again, catching at Jace's shirt as he made to stand. "You can't do this. I won't let you."

"Clary," he said softly. "It's the only way." He tried to push past her; the runes around them glowed.

And all at once, it came to her.

"Wait!" she said. "Take me instead."

Jace's eyes widened, but Leviathan only laughed.

"Why would I want you?" he said, sneering.

"Because you were wrong," Clary said, her heartbeat beginning to quicken. "Jace didn't kill Beelzebub. _I did._"

The demon laughed again. "Your tricks won't work on me, little one. I know it was Jace."

She shook her head. "Jace was only the weapon," she said. "It was my rune that killed him. My hand behind it."

Leviathan gazed at her; she could see doubt in his eyes. She turned around; Jace was staring at her, his lips parted. She handed him the baby. His arms curled automatically around her.

"Clary, what are you doing?" he whispered.

The tip of his stele brushed against her palm as she leaned in to kiss him. "Trust me," she breathed.

She could feel the demon's eyes on her; with her heart pounding, she turned to face him. "I killed Beelzebub," she said in a ringing voice, "which means _I_ am the ruler of this realm."

She stood; her legs trembled, pain shooting down them, but she forced herself to step out of the protective circle, toward the demon. "Now take it from me," she said quietly, holding out her hand.

Leviathan stepped forward; his hand closed on hers.

"NO!" Jace shouted.

There was a flare of light. Leviathan jerked backward, hissing as he stared down at his hand, which now bore a rune identical to the one on Clary's palm.

"Leviathan, Prince of Hell," Clary cried, "_I banish you!"_

The demon screeched, lunging for her. There was a blast of wind; Leviathan was flung backward. It looked as though he were crumpling, shrinking down into himself. With a final flash of light, he was gone. Silence fell.

Clary gasped for breath. Her legs gave out, and she sank to the ground, trembling. Then Jace was there, his arm around her. Clary took the baby from him, hugging her to her chest, kissing her forehead softly. The baby coughed, blinking up at her.

"Clary," Jace murmured—but before he could say anything else, the cliffside shook.

Clary looked up; all around them, the world was crumbling. Rock formations tumbled down, collapsing into dust. The horde of demons in the distance was shrinking as demons vanished in flashes of light.

"He was holding it together!" Jace shouted over the rumbling of stone. "It's falling apart without him!"

Rocks fell around them. Jace hauled Clary to her feet, pulling her back into the shadows of the cliffside. "Clary—" he said, his eyes wide with fear.

She gasped. "Stele! Give me your stele!"

He handed it to her automatically. She began to carve runes into the wall. "What are you doing?"

"Look!" She jerked her head toward the demons, who were still evaporating into thin air. "They're going back to their own dimensions," she said. "The borders between this world and the other ones are disappearing. Which means—"

The Portal roared to life. She caught her breath. "This might not work," she said.

"It's our only chance," said Jace.

Clary gazed at him; her fear was mirrored in his eyes. Then he gripped her shoulder, and she tightened her hold on the baby.

They stepped through together.

* * *

"What do you _mean_, it stopped?" Maryse demanded.

"I don't _know!"_ Simon snapped. "I told you, it just stopped hurting!"

"But does that mean she's had the baby?" said Maryse. Her face was white.

"Or it could mean she's unconscious, or a hundred other things," Simon said. "I don't _know_."

"Whatever it is," Alec interjected before Maryse could speak again, "it probably means we need to hurry."

Magnus came up behind him, squeezing his hand. He, Alec, and the kids had returned a few minutes ago. "Is Jace—"

Alec shook his head. "I haven't felt anything else. I think he's okay. For now."

Then, all at once, Simon's _parabatai _rune flared—not with pain, but with warmth. Alec gasped; Simon looked up to see his fingers flutter to his shoulder.

Light burst from the table. Jocelyn shot to her feet, knocking over her chair as the sketchbook and dagger glowed bright gold, accompanied by a flash of light on the map.

Simon caught Alec's eye—they both turned and ran out of the library.

* * *

Jace toppled out of the Portal, Clary falling out beside him. His surroundings swung around him; it took him a moment to orient himself, to recognize the familiar cathedral and lush green garden.

He let out a disbelieving laugh. "You did it, Clary," he said, turning to look at her. "We're—"

His voice died in his throat. She was swaying on her feet, her face paper-white. It was only then that he noticed that the bottom of her dress was soaked with blood.

"Take—take her," Clary gasped, thrusting the baby into Jace's arms. He had only a moment to marvel at the warm, comfortable weight of his daughter before Clary crumpled to the ground.

"Clary!" He knelt beside her, cradling the baby carefully. Clary lay motionless, a circle of blood growing beneath her, blackening the bright green grass. "_Clary!"_

He took his stele out of her limp fingers and scrawled a Blood-Replenishment rune onto her collarbone. It sank in, but the blood was still spreading. "Clary," he said again, his voice cracking.

There was a loud _bang_ behind him—Jace turned to see figures dashing around the corner of the Institute.

"Jace!" Isabelle cried, flinging herself toward him. She stopped short, gaping down at the baby in his arms and Clary's prone body.

Magnus dropped down beside Clary, a blue glow already forming around his fingers. "I can stabilize her, but she needs a Silent Brother," he said, speaking quickly.

"I'll go—" Maryse turned and ran back into the Institute.

Jace clutched the baby tightly. She was fussing; he rocked her automatically, watching Magnus. He put his glowing hands to Clary's stomach, and the flow of blood began to slow. Jace let out a shuddering breath.

Simon reached out; Jace handed over his stele, and Simon traced another _amissio_ rune over Jace's. Jocelyn and Luke knelt beside Clary's head, Jocelyn stroking her hair and whispering words of comfort.

"Oh, Jace," Isabelle whispered. Her arms went around him, and Jace felt Alec join them. He leaned into his siblings, closing his eyes as all the energy drained out of him.

* * *

The hallway outside the infirmary was silent. Jace sat on one of the benches, numb. The baby was sleeping peacefully in his arms, swaddled in a soft yellow blanket. She had been pronounced in perfect health by Brother Enoch, just before he had entered the infirmary to help tend to Clary with two of his brethren. The doors had barely closed when Maryse came over to him, peering down at the baby wrapped clumsily in his jacket.

"Let me clean the baby up," she had said. "You can sit for a while."

"No, I'll do it," Jace said. "I need to get away from here."

He took the baby to the bathroom nearest to their bedroom, where they had set up a basket full of diapers and swaddling blankets. As he had settled the baby in the sink, gently rinsing dried blood off her, it had occurred to him that this was something Clary should have been there for: their daughter's first bath. It was such a little thing, and yet it was something she would never get the chance to see.

All at once, a thousand emotions enveloped him, choking him. He shut off the tap and collapsed over the sink, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. The baby whimpered softly, and he brushed kisses across her forehead, trying to memorize the scent of her, needing something tangible to grab onto. He lifted her out of the sink and slid to the floor, cradling her against his chest.

It was a long time before he felt that his legs could support him. His emotions receded; he pushed them back behind a metal wall, focusing on what he could do. Mechanically, he dried the baby off, diapered her, and swaddled her the way Maryse had taught him. Then, carrying her carefully, he made his way back to the infirmary, sitting down by the doors and avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Now, Isabelle came over, sitting beside him. "Aww," she cooed, leaning over the baby. "He's so cute."

"It's a girl," said Jace dully.

"What?" Isabelle looked astonished. "But you guys were so sure!"

"I guess we were wrong." He shifted his arms, settling the baby more snugly in them as he rubbed a thumb absently across her cheek. The baby slept on serenely.

"Well, don't keep us all in suspense," Isabelle said. "What's her name?"

Jace shook his head. "We—we didn't get a chance to decide before..." His vision clouded. He blinked rapidly, swallowing.

"Hey." Isabelle gripped his shoulder. He looked at her. "She's not dying," said Isabelle fiercely. "This isn't how she's going to die. You guys just escaped a freaking demon dimension. If she can do that, she can do this."

"Women die in childbirth every day," said Jace hollowly.

"I know, but...she won't, okay?"

"Yeah." Jace looked down at the baby. Though she had his eyes, everything else was Clary: her fiery hair, her soft, delicate features, the precise set of her jaw and curve of her nose. "She's going to be beautiful," Jace said, almost to himself.

Isabelle chuckled. "A real heartbreaker."

They lapsed into silence. How many times had they sat together in the past nine months, waiting to see if Clary lived or died? Jace glanced around, catching sight of Simon; he was sitting white-faced and rigid against the wall, gripping his forearm so tightly that the Voyance rune on the back of his hand looked almost distorted. He looked up, noticing Jace's attention on him, and loosened his grip, shaking his head. _Nothing yet_.

Jace wanted to pace; he wanted to _run_. The only thing keeping him grounded was the tiny child in his arms. He hadn't let anyone else hold her yet. If he let her go, he thought he might crumble. He had to hold onto her, this tiny piece of Clary, this perfect angel. The baby made a noise—he looked down, but she simply gave a little cough and continued to sleep.

_I'd die for her_, he reflected. But it meant something different now than it had before. No more could he throw himself into battle unthinkingly. Now this little girl was depending on him to come back home. He had to protect her, above all else. Her and Clary...his family.

The infirmary doors opened at last. Jace looked up, his grip tightening on the baby.

_She is alive and well,_ Brother Enoch said. There was a collective exhale from everyone. Jace blinked back tears of relief. _Sleeping for now. She lost a great deal of blood._

"Is she—" Jace's voice cracked. "Will she be okay?"

_She had what is called a placental abruption. The placenta detached too early and too quickly, which caused her bleeding. But she will be fine. And she should have no issues carrying a child in the future. _Brother Enoch stood aside. _You may see her._

Jace stood, his knees trembling, and went into the infirmary.

* * *

Clary awoke to the sound of wailing. She opened her eyes; the ceiling above her was stark white. Her hand went automatically to her belly before she remembered.

"Shh, shh," someone was saying softly. "Let your mom sleep for a little longer..."

She turned her head to the side. The baby was squalling in Jace's arms, her little face squinched up. He rocked her gently, shushing her.

"Jace," Clary said. Her throat felt dry as sand. He looked up.

"You're awake," he said, relief coloring his voice. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." She sat up slowly, her body sore. "Let me hold her." She reached out for the baby, and Jace transferred her carefully into Clary's arms. The baby fussed, squinting up at her with those breathtaking golden eyes. "Thank the Angel," Clary whispered. She brushed a kiss across her daughter's temple. "Thank the Angel she's okay."

"Are _you_ okay?" said Jace, watching her closely.

She opened her mouth to respond—and then she was crying. She felt the bed sink on one side as Jace climbed up next to her, putting an arm around her shaking shoulders. She leaned into him, her emotions spilling out of her.

"Clary," Jace murmured into her hair. "Talk to me."

She drew in a shuddering breath. "I was so scared," she whispered.

"I know," Jace said softly. "I was too. I thought—" His voice cracked. "I thought I might lose you. Or that I might never get to meet her." He brushed his finger across the baby's cheek. "Clary, I promise you, if there had been any other way, I would have done it. But I'm sorry. I swore I wouldn't leave you, and I broke my promise."

Clary shook her head. "I want to be mad at you," she said quietly. "But I can't. I know you didn't want to do it. You did what you thought was right. You did it to save us."

"Yes," Jace breathed. "But I'm still sorry. I can't—I can't imagine how hard it was for you. Doing that on your own."

She closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks. She could still see that cave, as if it were imprinted on the inside of her eyelids. "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

Jace brushed her tears away. "I love you," he said. "I love you so much. You're amazing."

Clary gave a hiccupping laugh. "You're pretty amazing too, I guess. Killing all those demons."

"You guess?" said Jace, sounding affronted.

Clary laughed again. She took another deep breath, sighing it out. "I love you, too."

Jace kissed her forehead. Then he kissed her cheek, then her lips. She sank into the kiss, letting the tension in her body ease.

The baby squirmed in her arms again. Then she began to wail. Clary looked down at her. "She must be hungry," she said.

"Do you want to try feeding her?"

Clary nodded. The Silent Brothers had cleaned her up and dressed her in a gown; now she unbuttoned it, baring her breast and guiding the baby up the way Maryse and Jocelyn had taught her. The baby latched immediately and began to suck in earnest.

"Look at that," Jace said, smiling. "You're a natural."

"Please," said Clary, chuckling. "She's doing all the work."

They sat there for a long moment, watching their daughter eat. She gazed up at them, her golden eyes full of wonder.

"She needs a name," Clary said at last. "We can't call her William, can we?"

"No, I think that would border on child abuse," Jace said, grinning.

They pondered the baby. She blinked up at them inquisitively.

"Jocelyn?" Jace said eventually.

Clary considered this. "She doesn't really look like a Jocelyn," she said. "But I like it as a middle name. Otherwise we'd run into the same problem as—oh!" she gasped.

"What?"

"Alexandra," she breathed.

Jace stared at her. "Alexandra," he repeated.

"You said you wanted to name the baby after Alec, if it was a boy," Clary said. "And I like it, don't you? I think it fits."

"Yeah." The word was a breath. "Yes. It's perfect."

Clary smiled. "So it's decided. Alexandra Jocelyn Herondale."

"No," Jace said. "Alexandra Jocelyn _Fairchild_ Herondale."

Clary raised her eyebrows. "That's a big name for such a little person."

"She'll grow into it," said Jace. "And it feels right. She's a Fairchild, through and through."

The baby had finished eating; Clary buttoned her gown and brought the baby to her shoulder, patting her back gently. The baby gave a squelching burp.

"Gross," said Jace, wrinkling his nose. Clary shot him a sharp glare. "I mean...beautiful. She has a beautiful burp."

Clary laughed, bringing the baby back down into her arms. "Hello, Alexandra," she said, smiling down at her daughter. Alexandra yawned widely, peering up at her parents. Clary ran a hand over the baby's soft red hair. "She's all fire, isn't she?" she said, smiling. "Red and gold."

"That explains why she's so stubborn," Jace said. "She got all the fire from both of us."

Grinning, Clary rested her head on his shoulder. Alexandra yawned again, her eyes fluttering shut. In a moment, she was asleep.

There was a soft rapping on the door. Jace looked up. "Come in," he called.

The doors opened, admitting a veritable flood of people—Isabelle and Simon led the pack, followed swiftly by Jocelyn and Luke. Alec and Maryse brought up the rear.

"Clary, oh my God," Jocelyn said, rushing to her side. "Thank God you're okay."

"What the hell happened over there?" Isabelle said as they all gathered around the bed. "How did you come back?"

Clary hesitated. Jace rubbed her shoulder. "We don't have to talk about it right now," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "It's okay." She drew in a breath. "Sit down," she told the others. "It's a long story."

They settled around her bed, drawing up chairs. Isabelle perched on the edge of the bed, pulling her legs up. Slowly, Clary began to explain. The others listened, their eyes wide, faces pale. When she had finished, they were silent for a long moment.

"So let me get this straight," Isabelle said finally. She began to tick things off on her fingers. "You gave birth by yourself, cut your own cord, killed a demon, saved Jace's life, faced down a freaking _Prince of Hell_, and made a Portal that crossed dimensions, all while you were practically bleeding to death?"

"Um," said Clary. "Yes."

Isabelle stared at her. "Clary Fairchild," she said, "you may be the most badass person I know."

Clary cracked a smile. "Thanks, Izzy."

The doors opened again; Magnus entered, holding his children's hands. "Doing okay, biscuit?" he said, smiling at Clary.

She returned the smile. "I'm great." She looked at Max and Rafael; they were staring at the baby.

Magnus crouched down beside them. "You want to meet your baby cousin?" he said. Max and Rafe nodded excitedly, and they ran over to the bed, ogling the baby.

"Wow, she's really big," said Max, his eyes like saucers. "How did she fit in your tummy, Aunt Clary? My tummy gets really full when I eat a burrito, even a little one."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Rafe, very serious for his age. "Babies don't grow in people's stomachs. Right, Dad?"

Alec went very pink. "Uh—we'll discuss it later."

Magnus conjured another chair out of thin air and settled into it. He and Alec each pulled one of their children into their laps.

Jocelyn leaned forward to look at Alexandra. "She's so beautiful," she breathed. "Can I hold her?"

"Here you go, Grandma," Clary said, handing the baby carefully to her mother. Jocelyn gave a soft laugh, her eyes shining.

"_Grandma_," she repeated. "God, I feel so old." She cradled the baby gently before handing her off to Luke. Then Luke passed the baby to Maryse, who promptly burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed, waving away the tissue Isabelle offered her. "I'm just s-s-so _happy_..."

"Why don't you let me hold her," said Magnus hastily, taking the baby out of Maryse's arms.

At last, the baby had been passed around to everyone and returned to Clary's arms. Somehow she had managed to stay asleep the whole time, but now she opened her eyes again. Beside her, Jocelyn caught her breath.

"God, she looks so much like you, Clary," she said. "Except for those eyes."

"She's gorgeous," Simon agreed.

Clary smiled down at her daughter. "I know."

"Well?" Isabelle said. "Does she have a name?"

"She does." Clary looked around the room. "Alexandra Jocelyn Fairchild Herondale."

There was a moment of silence.

At last, Alec spoke, his voice hoarse. "I'm honored," he said softly.

"Me too," Jocelyn said. She kissed the top of Clary's head. "Thank you, baby," she whispered.

Isabelle sighed. "Well, I'll forgive the fact that you didn't name her after me, considering how adorable that name is," she said.

"You think so?" Clary asked, smiling.

"Yeah," Isabelle said, "but it's too long. _Way_ too long. How about...Lexie?"

Jace looked down at the baby. "Lexie Herondale."

"Sounds badass," Clary said, grinning.

Jace laughed and pulled her in against him. She snuggled into him and kissed the baby's forehead gently.

"Oh," Isabelle sighed. "I want one."

Simon glanced at her. "A nickname?"

She shook her head. "A baby," she said. "I want a baby."

His lips parted slightly. "Iz..."

"I'm ready," she said softly. "I'm ready now."

Simon stared at her for a long moment before pulling her into his arms and kissing her passionately. Rafe made a sound of disgust, folding his arms. Clary fought hard not to laugh.

"Hey," said Jace loudly, "could you maybe not make one right this minute?"

"How do you make a baby?" Max asked, cocking his head. Alec went, if possible, an even deeper shade of pink.

"Oh!" Maryse squealed, flinging herself on Isabelle. "Another grandbaby, I'm so excited!"

"I'm not pregnant yet, Mom," Isabelle said, prying herself away from her mother. "And I probably won't be for a while."

"Not with that attitude," said Maryse determinedly. "You should start planning right away—how regular are your monthly cycles?"

"Mom!" Isabelle spluttered, blushing.

Clary laughed. Lexie squirmed, looking disoriented by all the noise. "Your family is very silly," Clary whispered to her.

"Crazy, more like," Jace put in. "You, little Lexie, are going to have a very crazy life."

She didn't seem bothered; in fact, if Clary hadn't known better, she would have said her daughter looked rather determined. Clary smiled, relaxing back into Jace's arms.

Outside the window, the day was clear and crisp, the sky a bright blue with clouds drifting lazily past the sun. In her mind's eye, Clary could still see the smoke-filled scarlet sky of Beelzebub's realm, but it gave her hope to know that it was finally gone. _He_ was finally gone. And for the first time in a long time, her mind felt clear.

She gazed down at Lexie. _You are my world_, she thought. _My everything_.

The clouds shifted, and the room filled with sunlight, bright as golden fire.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading _City of Smoke and Dust!_ I'm so grateful to everyone who's been here since the beginning, and everyone who binged this story in one sitting, and everyone in between. Reading your reviews (EDIT: now over 100! Thank you so much!) between each upload brought me so much joy. I was always surprised by how invested people were in this little story I worked on in my spare time (or time when I was supposed to be writing papers, but we'll leave that aside). So from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Until next time.**

**With love,**

**~The Lovelorn Lovelace**

**PS: Keep an eye out for the sequel...coming soon.**


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